DC Book 5: The Beginning of Forever
by aubreysmom
Summary: Who would have thought that the six months before a wedding could be filled with such adventure? Will our sweethearts make it SANE? And could there be ANOTHER wedding in the near future?
1. Intro & Ch 1A: We Gather Together

**The Beginning of Forever**

(Volume #5 in _The Dillingham Chronicles)_

by aubreysmom

**Rating:** PG/PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I have a lot of author-created characters in this one, so let's just list the ones that _aren't_: Myles Leland, Jack Hudson, Sue Thomas, Tara Williams, Dimitrius Gans, Bobby Manning, Lucy Dotson, Ted Garrett and Howie Fines are the property of Paxson Entertainment and Pebblehut Productions; Sam Leland is the brainchild of RivenRebelPoet, and I thank you for the loan of him.

**Author's Note:** For those new to this series, I need to clarify something. This series does follow the show, but only as far as "Cold Case," from Season 2. I realize we've learned a great deal more about Myles' family life on the show since then, and none of it parallels the universe I've created here. I have used the mention of Myles' brothers from "The Fugitive," which someone in the continuity department seems to have forgotten about as the show has gone on. But this series began before we learned about Anne and the less-than-stellar relationship Myles has with his parents, so let's just call this an "ideal universe."

We're also going to pull in a few details from "Christmas at the Cape," although I realize Sam wasn't in that one. Hopefully we'll come up with an explanation.

**Acknowledgements:** Most profound thanks to my betas, in particular this time Ducky, for her help with both the ASL glossing and the deaf culture info. Also Nel for keeping my characters in line. And my muse, "Paul," who translates from the Great Dictation-Giver. Thanks, guys!

**Time frame:** Begins two weeks after the ending of _A Ring of Roses_

* * *

**Chapter 1: We Gather Together**_Leland Residence, Columbia Heights_

_Thursday, November 25 (Thanksgiving Day)_

_7 a.m._

"Anyone awake yet?" Elizabeth pulled the door from the garage closed with her foot, since she was trying to balance a double-tiered pie carrier in each hand.

"I'm in the kitchen, sweetheart."

"Is the alarm off? I might be able to work the keypad with my elbow."

Myles' deep laugh reached her from the other room. "It's off. Do you need some help?"

She walked into the kitchen and set the carriers on the counter. "Not anymore. I just wanted to make sure these got in here in one piece." She surveyed him for a moment as he returned to the chore at hand, a fond smile playing across her face and her green eyes.

7 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, and he was already in a shirt and tie, although they were well-covered by a navy blue pin-striped apron. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he deftly chopped an assortment of celery, onions and mushrooms. He scraped them off the cutting board into a nearby bowl with a flourish, and then placed the board in the dishwasher.

Elizabeth couldn't resist. "Okay, now I _know_ you've pledged to Public Television at least once in your life."

Myles looked up at her and raised a brow. "Oh really?" He smiled at her. "And how did you come up with that deduction?"

"Elementary, my dear Leland," she replied, matching his expression. "That apron looks exactly like the one Jeff Smith wore, and you've obviously seen more than one episode of _The Frugal Gourmet_, from the move I just witnessed. Ergo, you pledged once when the 'pledge prize' was one of those aprons."

Myles laughed. He then wiped his hands on a nearby towel and came around the kitchen island to catch her on his arms. "Very good, Dr. Dillingham. There's just one minor flaw in your logic."

"And what would that be?"

"I have pledged my support to that most worthy cause, and I have seen the show, but the apron came from Bobby. His mom sent it to him, since she assumed he'd actually learned to cook when he got his first apartment. She should have known better. It was one of his 'gag gifts' during an office Christmas swap, but I actually use it quite often." He stroked her cheek. "I do love it when you go all 'detective' on me, though."

Elizabeth laughed merrily. "Uh-huh. Sure. I think you've just gone completely blind ever since I accepted your ring two weeks ago."

"You could be right." He drew her into a lingering kiss, enjoying the moment alone before…

"All right, you two. Sheesh, it's not even eight o'clock yet." Sam Leland wandered into the kitchen, scarcely awake, in bare feet, sweats and a _Dashboard Confessional _T-shirt. "Can't a guy even get a cup of coffee before he has to watch the romantic-antics?"

"You'd better make that a fast cup of coffee, soon-to-be-brother-in-law," Elizabeth quipped. "Tara said she was coming over to have breakfast this morning and help us set up. She'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I know. She's seen me half-awake before." He made a show of pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Myles couldn't pass up the opportunity. "Oh, really, little brother? And just how often has she seen you half-awake?"

"Just because you're five minutes older, twin..." Sam grinned, shaking a finger at him. "And isn't the Leland motto 'Never kiss and tell'? Although, with you two, there's nothing to tell, because you're always lip-locked anyway."

Elizabeth laughed again and walked over to give Sam a big hug. "It's definitely been too long since your last visit. It gets far too quiet around here."

"I beg your pardon?" Myles did his best to sound insulted, but it just didn't take. "I would hardly call the last thirteen months 'quiet'."

Her eyes darkened for a fleeting second, but her smile never dimmed. "That's not what I meant, love," she said fondly. "But you have to admit, not much has compared to that double-date that ended in a popcorn war over the Black Knight's domain."

"True." But he'd caught the look in her eye, and he noticed Sam had as well. His twin motioned upstairs with his eyes, and Myles nodded just slightly.

Sam gave Liz another quick squeeze around the shoulders. "Well, soon-to-be-sis-in-law, I think I'll go grab a shower before Lady MarioKart shows up. Back in a flash."

As Sam went upstairs, Myles stepped over to her and pulled her into his arms again. "You okay?" he asked, tangling his fingers in her dark hair.

Elizabeth sighed. "Was it that obvious this time?"

"Just in your eyes, but Sam picked up on it, too." He kissed her softly. "It's all right. It'll all go away someday. Evan Graham wasn't the only crisis we've faced, just the worst."

"I know, but he's bringing all the rest of it along with him. Last night, I dreamed about that awful day in the hospital, when I thought for sure I was going to lose you to that damn virus." Her arms tightened around his waist.

Myles stroked her cheeks once more, letting his eyes push the thought through to her soul. "Then I guess we have a great deal to be thankful for this year, don't we?"

Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment; then he saw the smile flood back into her eyes and across her delicate features. "You know what? You are _absolutely right_. We do. I think we'd best get breakfast started before Tara gets here. And I have to finish unloading my car."

* * *

"Can you believe it's almost Christmas _again_?" Tara refilled her coffee and came back to the table. "What a year."

"Amen to that," Elizabeth countered with a smile. "But it only gets better from here. Early New Year's resolution. I've got too much coming up in the next six months or so for anything bad to happen. So you all had best just put out the word to the bad guys."

"Yeg-zactly," Sam piped in, reaching for another cinnamon roll, Tara's contribution to breakfast. "And I was gonna surprise you later, Lady MarioKart, but I think this oughta put the villains on alert, too. I'm looking to buy a place of my own down here in short order."

Tara's eyes lit up, but they were no match for the expression on Myles' face. "Are you serious?"

"Yup. As much as I love the place on the Cape, it's too full of too many years of hiding." He grew sober for just a moment, turning his coffee mug around absently. "Too quiet. I need someplace with a bit more action going on, where not as many people know the whole sordid story— or think they do."

Elizabeth smiled. "That's great, Sam. Don't know if the Capitol will ever be the same, but I think we could use a bit of a shake-up."

Sam grinned at her. "Well, that's good, because I was wondering if maybe you were starting to think about selling your place in the near future. Since you two are getting married before too long, I assume. Or are you gonna wait until after…uh…" He trailed off, a bit hesitant to continue.

This time there was no flash of darkness in the green eyes; instead, a light of fire. Elizabeth glanced over at Myles. "We haven't actually set a date yet; haven't really talked about it. But I don't want to wait until after Graham's execution. I don't want him messing with our lives any more." She looked back at Sam. "If you really are interested in the house, we can talk about it later."

"Sounds good to me," Myles replied, catching her hand. "I'd much rather fill that time frame with celebration."

The psychologist suddenly bit back a groan. "Oh, I almost forgot. 'Celebration' around the holidays, for me at least, includes several rather 'posh' society gatherings. The women's shelter I volunteer at is always in need of donations, and this is my chance to do a little 'schmoozing' for them." She gave Myles a rather pitying look. "You may want to pray for a crime spree, because I'll surely be asked where my handsome fiancé is if you don't show up with me."

Tara giggled. "Myles? Pass up the opportunity for a little schmoozing? Never." She ducked the linen napkin he threw at her.

"Hey, that reminds me," Sam added before his twin could retort. "Maggie still throw her shindig every year?"

Myles nodded, his demeanor suddenly going rather stiff. Sam ignored it, but the two ladies exchanged a confused look.

"Our grandmother, on Mom's side," Sam explained. "Margaret Effingham. Talk about high-society, highbrow dragon-lady. Her Christmas bash at their townhouse here in D.C. always starts the 'season' and leaves all the other socialites scrambling to keep up with her for the rest of the month. I used to read about it in the society column in the _Boston Globe_; that's how big this thing is."

"You never went?" Tara asked.

Sam shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "Uh, no. You see, when I got home again after those two years with Matthews, the rest of the family didn't really know what to do with me. Though heaven knows a few of them certainly tried." He gave his brother a fond look. "But Grand Maggie? Not a chance."

Myles nodded at that. "Grandmother Margaret was among those who just acted as though Sam had never existed." He sighed heavily and looked at Elizabeth. "I was going to ask you earlier, but it's not really an event I look forward to. Although I'm certainly _expected_ to show up, barring an imminent terrorist threat. It's this Saturday evening, if you have no other plans." The look in the blue-grey eyes made her think he wished she _did_ have plans, and perhaps he could join her.

She laid a hand on his arm. "I would love to go with you, Myles. I know that no one has a perfect family; as much as I love your parents, there had to be at least _one_ truly highbrow relative in there somewhere." She flashed a rueful grin at Tara. "Unfortunately, I got the other set-up; very few _aren't_ stuck-up in my family. Which reminds me; you all are finally going to get to meet my sister, Connie. She's coming for dinner today. Unfortunately, she has an account she needs to take care of first thing tomorrow, so she has to go back tonight. But at least she'll be here… she's the only other 'normal' person in my family. Everybody else is about as highbrow as they come."

Sam chuckled. "Liz, trust me, you ain't _met_ highbrow until you've met the Grand Maggie. Hey Myles, she still insist on you—"

He broke off abruptly as Myles hit him with a positively killing glare. "Ah," he said quietly, though he was still grinning. "That would answer _that_ question. Sorry, ladies," he said in response to the pair of questioning looks he was getting, "that particular secret is revealed only by my twin. I'm not _that_ obnoxious."

Both women took one look at the Harvard grad and decided the interrogation could wait— indefinitely, if necessary. Tara drained her coffee cup and stood up. "Well, then let's get going. We've only got about four hours before the gang lands here, and I'd like it if we all had a chance to relax by then."

The relief on Myles' face was apparent. Elizabeth smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's all right, love," she murmured. "You can tell me when you're ready."

* * *

_12 noon_

The table was set, the turkey was sending positively divine aromas through the house, and Tara collapsed next to Sam on the sofa. "I swear, I'm not _moving_ for the rest of the day. Somebody else can be on the cleanup crew."

Myles laughed at her as he brought over mugs of mulled cider for them. "You spend entirely too much time sitting at your computer if _this_ wore you out."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "And you've had way too much energy since you found out your cholesterol _wasn't_ ready to self-destruct. Which reminds me— we _do _have stuff available that Bobby won't keel over from, right?"

Elizabeth brought over a tray of appetizers and set them on the coffee table. "Yes; nobody else will notice it, but almost everything we planned for dinner is covered. I made it a point to find recipes, and pre-test them, that wouldn't leave him feeling left out. As long as he doesn't opt for third helpings of everything, he should be fine."

Sam grabbed a cracker and held it up for Glorfindel, who was perched on Tara's shoulder between them. The slender cat gingerly licked at the smoked salmon once, then proceeded to make short work of the rest of it.

"I'm glad _someone_ appreciates the finer things in life," Myles commented dryly as he sat down in an armchair. "I just hope he gets along with Levi all right."

Just then, the doorbell rang. Myles got up and walked over to answer it. "Good afternoon, Miss Thomas," he said, the formal tone seeming strange as he also signed HELLO in the process. Her brows went up in surprise, but she smiled all the same.

"Hi, Myles. I hope we're not too early. Levi was getting a little restless."

"Not at all," he replied. He signed WELCOME to her as she stepped inside, then placed his right hand on his chest, his fingers together, and brushed it upward a couple of times. He then made a THANK YOU sign with both hands, followed by both hands starting palms down, then turning them upward and moving them toward her slightly.

Sue's eyes were now the size of quarters, but her smile held a trace of amusement as well. She signed THANK YOU, then returned HAPPY. The second sign, however, was different than he'd done. She made a "1" handshape, then touched her index finger to her chin and bounced it downward twice, ending at her chest.

The look of puzzlement he gave her was priceless; then he realized they'd had an audience for the exchange.

Elizabeth was laughing softly as she walked over to him and put her arm around his waist. "I _told_ you that book wasn't accurate. There are too many SEE signs in it."

"Oh," he replied, then turned back to Sue. "I'm sorry, Sue, I—"

She waved a hand at him. "It's okay, Myles. I recognize the Signed Exact English sign for it; I just replied in ASL, that's all. But thank you for the effort; it means a lot." She showed him the correct sign again, which he copied, then smiled as he took her coat, and turned to give Elizabeth a hug. "You're wearing off on him, I see."

The psychologist laughed again. "To tell you the absolute truth," she said, signing as she spoke, "I hadn't even realized he was doing a little research on his own until I found the library book in the study. I'll get him a better dictionary."

"All right, you two," Myles countered as they walked over to the living area. "I have to admit, though; things might have turned out very differently a few months ago if it hadn't been for the limited ASL I _do _know, and Jack knows. It rather hit home at that point, the distinct advantage of being able to communicate silently, more than 'take your unit that way.' If I had a stable schedule, I might even take a class, but I don't see that happening right away."

The look on Sue's face made Tara smile broadly. "Never thought you'd hear those words coming out of _that_ mouth, did you, Sue?" she quipped brightly as she rescued the appetizers from Levi. "Maybe they'll offer ASL at Quantico someday."

A bit of a frown crossed Sue's face, and Sam shook his head. "Listen to you two, discussing a language, and a gorgeous one at that, as a tactic."

Myles blinked. "Sue, I didn't mean it like that, honestly. I just…that was what finally made the difference, I guess. That, and what you went through on that surveillance… I…"

He trailed off, not sure if he was apologizing or making things worse, and sighed. "Call it perhaps making up for what, at least on my part, feels like a lifetime of completely unfair behavior."

Sue was quiet for a moment, looking at her colleague with a mix of surprise and gratitude; then she spoke, her voice a bit shaky. "Myles, it's okay. No apology is necessary, as much as it's appreciated. I've faced worse than you in the past, believe it or not." Now she smiled. "Just not on a daily basis for two years."

He started to say something again, but she stopped him. "I'm just teasing you now." Then she turned to the rest of the group. "As far as an ASL course at Quantico… I imagine it would take awhile to implement. And it would have to be pretty specialized. Four months really isn't all that long, even for an intensive class."

Now the smile faded slightly, as she took a sip of the cider Elizabeth had brought her. "Unfortunately, a single unit realizing an advantage to it won't likely affect the entire Bureau. It could be done; but convincing the Bureau, along with the vast majority of agents that would have to go back and take it, not to mention every new recruit…" She sighed and glanced at Myles again. "I think I'd rather face those first two years again."

"Well," Tara said, "maybe we'll just have to work on it over the long term. Sounds like a worthy goal. I am sorry if it sounded like I was discussing it as a tactic, though." The doorbell rang. "Sounds like the rest of the troops are arriving."

Elizabeth gasped. "Oh! I'm supposed to pick up Connie at the train station at one! I'd better scoot." She grabbed her coat and gave Myles a quick kiss. "I'll be back before you know it, love."


	2. Ch 1B

**Author's Note:** Just for clarification - if it's in all caps, it's an American Sign Language gloss (translation from English). If the whole sentence or paragraph is in italics, it's where Elizabeth is translating into English while someone is signing. It was simply easier to do it that way than to have these huge blocks of glossing.

* * *

_4:00 p.m._

Bobby leaned back against the kitchen counter and patted his stomach. "Liz, you're the best. I was actually _dreading_ Thanksgiving this year. Arlene's been hounding me for two weeks now about behaving myself. I liked her better when she was torturing Myles."

"Oh, thank you so much." Myles grinned as he handed the Aussie another plate to dry. "Just for that, I should make you _wash_ for the rest of these."

Elizabeth's laugh reached them from the refrigerator, where she was putting away leftovers and getting out whipped cream for the pies. "Myles, he's helping of his own choice. Don't push it. Tell me again why Lucy didn't make it today?"

"First Thanksgiving her grandmom's at the new place," Bobby replied. "So Lucy's playing co-hostess."

"Oh." The three of them looked around at the comfortable scene in the house. There were three small islands of noisy activity; Jack, Sam, Tara and Dimitrius were rooting for the Redskins; Darcy and Donna were comparing notes on the knitting projects they never seemed to finish; and the Gans kids were upstairs in the guest room where Sam had his video game set up, though they hadn't closed the door as asked and the sounds were filtering down.

In the midst of all this, a fourth intense conversation was taking place, but it wasn't noisy. Fingers flew in almost a ballet of conversation as Sue and Connie talked, oblivious to the rest of the world, it seemed.

They looked like two sides of the same coin, in some aspects. Sue's blonde hair and dark eyes were a sharp contrast to Connie's dark auburn tresses and bright blue eyes. But they obviously had hit it off almost immediately.

Bobby shook his head, smiling. "You think they even remember the rest of us are here?" he asked.

Elizabeth smiled. "You have to remember, Bobby; both Sue and Connie work in the hearing world. Both spend most of their time wearing themselves out between reading lips and speaking words they can't hear. To have a chance, however rare, to converse with someone truly of their own world— I think I'd shut the rest of it out, too."

The Aussie looked a bit confused. "But I thought the whole point of learning to speak and read lips was to fit in with everyone; so why would they willingly choose to isolate themselves…?"

"Because it wasn't their choice to 'fit in.' Both of them were pushed into it by undoubtedly 'well-meaning' parents." That Myles' voice held a glimmer of understanding had Bobby's eyebrows halfway to the ceiling. "Think of it this way, Bobby. What if you had to spend twenty-four hours a day, every day, listening to Howie in one ear and Randy in the other? If you suddenly had an opportunity to talk to me instead, would you take it?"

The smart-aleck retort forming on Bobby's lips stopped as he visualized the scene Myles was describing. "Point taken," he agreed with a grin. "But would it _have_ to be you?"

Elizabeth stepped in between them before a full-out water fight could get started. "Come on, you two," she laughed. "Let's go join them, and I'll translate so no one gets worn out."

Bobby grinned as he set the last plate on the counter and laid the dish towel next to it. "She always this much of a party-pooper?"

There was a dramatic sigh in response. "Unfortunately, yes. It's a good thing she makes the best lasagna in the DC area, or I might reconsider that ring on her finger." He aimed his most charming smile at her as he said it.

"After a comment like _that_, you're lucky I'm still wearing it." Elizabeth gave Myles a mock-glare, but she was trying not to smile. "I may not be able to retaliate against Bobby, but _you_, my dear, are a whole different story. Consider yourself warned."

* * *

PRIVATE CONVERSATION THIS? Elizabeth caught Connie's eye as she signed, speaking as well for the men's benefit. Or can us SAD hearies join you?

Myles looked at her in surprise. "I never thought I'd see you use that sign."

"What sign?"

HEARIE, he signed in return. "The only time I usually see that is when Sue's fed up with the lot of us. It's my understanding that it's not exactly a nice term." He aimed a rueful grin at his colleague. "And it's most often after I catch her fingerspelling my name."

Sue colored slightly. "Well, you've deserved it most of those times." Then she explained. "HEARIE is a slang term, but it can be used in a couple of different ways. It's usually a derogatory term, but if you're a hearing person on good terms with the deaf, the deaf may also use the term for you. It's more… familiar than derogatory." Now she smiled at Myles and Bobby. "Think of it the same way as when Bobby calls you a 'drongo.' He doesn't _really_ mean that he thinks you're an idiot."

Bobby grinned. "Don't be so sure. So, is this convo open to the poor 'hearies' as well?"

Connie frowned at Liz and signed. "POOR, NO MONEY, WHY?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, boy, this is going to be an adventure." She signed in return to her sister, explaining vocally to the men, that POOR in the context Bobby had used would be equivalent to SAD in ASL.

Connie nodded, then signed to Sue, TALK THEM THIS WAY, HANDLE YOU HOW?

Sue smiled as her eyes pasted each. MUCH PRACTICE.

There was laughter as Elizabeth translated, and then Bobby signed SORRY to Connie, one of the very few signs he knew well enough to use, then rephrased his question. "As long as Liz is here to keep us all on the same track, is it okay if we _sad_ 'hearies' join you?"

The ladies exchanged a glance. OK Sue smiled. _But you're on OUR turf now._

Myles chuckled as Elizabeth translated. D-E-A-L, he fingerspelled. Then he smiled at Sue mischievously. He pointed to himself, then placed his index finger at his right temple; he held a "b" handshape out toward her, then brushed the middle finger of his right hand twice on middle of his open left palm. He then brought both "y" hands, held palms up at about shoulder width, down slightly, and followed it by pointing at Sue. ME THINK YOUR ADVANTAGE NOW YOU…

A moment's puzzlement crossed his face; then he placed a "closed 5" (fingers together) handshape on his chest and circled it twice. …ENJOY? The facial expression he accompanied it with indicated he wasn't sure he had the correct sign.

"I think you're enjoying the upper hand for a change," he spoke, hoping it at least came close to what he'd signed.

Sue smiled back at him. "Not bad, Myles, especially from a book. But that's 'please,' not 'enjoy.'" She demonstrated: starting with 2 flat open "5" hands, she circled them, one slightly below the other, over her chest. "This is the correct sign for 'enjoy.' But yes, I think I like having the upper hand for a change. Don't you, Connie?"

She'd been signing as she spoke, and now Connie Dillingham eyed her future brother-in-law with a grin. YES, she signed simply.

Bobby's eyes were wide. "When did _you_ start learning sign, Myles? And why wasn't I around to give you a proper razzing for it?"

There was laughter all around as Elizabeth translated. Then she and the men settled into the leather upholstery of the small conversation area.

"So Connie," Bobby asked, "what line of work are you in? A shrink like your sis here?" He caught Elizabeth fingerspelling "shrink" with a grin as she translated.

Connie smiled in return. NO HEAD NOT REDUCE. TAX NUMBER ME ATTEMPT REDUCE. CALCULATOR MONEY PERSON ME JOB H-A-R-T-F-O-R-D. _No, I don't shrink heads. The only things I shrink are tax figures, or try to. I work as a C.P.A. at an accounting firm in Hartford._

Myles looked up. ME WORK H-A-R-T-F-O-R-D F-B-I BEFORE D-C. JOB NAME? He raised his brows to indicate a question. "I was in the Hartford office before here. What's the name of your firm?"

_Humphries & Padden, _she fingerspelled. When he nodded, she continued. YOU KNOW NAME?

YES. He turned slightly to explain to Bobby, but made sure his face was still visible to the rest. "We had a case involving some pretty subtle money-laundering, and they had a separate account with Humphries & Padden, so we were able to get into their other accounts that way." He paused to let Elizabeth catch up. "They did nice work."

CONNIE SAY HER OFFICE HELP F-B-I H-A-R-T-F-O-R-D MUCH, Sue added. GOOD REPUTATION THEY GET NOW.

"How long have you been there, Connie?" Bobby made an attempt to fingerspell her name, at least.

"Bobby," Myles chided gently, "this isn't an interrogation."

IT OKM-Y-L-E-S, Connie replied, aiming a smile at Sue in the same movement. _A lot of introductions among Deaf/HOH people can seem like an interrogation. We love to find out every detail, because that's how we draw a "conclusion" about the people we meet. And, because the deaf are such a small community of people, we consider everyone "deaf" in the community, meaning hearing and deaf, to be "family," and when a first meet happens, then it's like telling your life story off the bat so the other knows "you."_

Now she turned to Bobby. SIGN NAME ME… She made a "C" handshape and drew it downward from her right temple to her chin. WELCOME USE YOU(PL), IF WANT.

The interest on both men's faces had Sue shaking her head slightly, a smile on her face. Myles saw it, and caught her eye as Bobby was asking Connie another question. FUNNY WHAT?

RED HAIR, BLUE EYES MUST, she quipped. BOBBY YOU DEAF CULTURE NOT INTERESTED BEFORE NOW.His face indicated he hadn't understood her signing, so she repeated it vocally, her voice soft.

Excuse ME? He teased her right back, although he knew he was now out of his ASL-league, so spoke. "You were more than spoken for from the minute you walked into the office. The rest of us never had a chance."

"_You _never wanted one." But she blushed clear to her toes as she said it.

He grinned at her discomfort, but there was a shadow in his eyes. This he could sign, and needed to. I know; I sorry i. Then he glanced over at the football group momentarily, and back to her. DAVID LEAVE, YOU NOT SORRY LATER? "No regrets at David leaving?" he spoke to make sure she understood what he'd signed.

She shook her head. NO. DAVID GO, HAD TOO. BIG JOB CHANCE. STILL WE TALK. BETTER FRIENDS NOW. She saw the shy gratitude in his eyes that she'd slowed her signing down enough that he understood most of it.

"All right, where'd you two wander off to?" Bobby's voice broke in.

Myles and Sue both looked up, and Bobby repeated his comment for her. "Sorry," she said. "We got sidetracked. What'd we miss?"

"Not much," Elizabeth replied with a smile. She'd seen the teasing going on. "Bobby's still grilling my sister."

* * *

They chatted for quite awhile; with Elizabeth translating, Bobby felt a lot more comfortable than he usually did in a conversation that was so heavily ASL. She'd thrown a pillow at him earlier, though…

"…_and the little ankle-biter took off outta there, mad as a cut snake, and didn't stop until the Back of Bourke— Hey!" He ducked as a tapestry throw pillow came flying at him. "What?"_

_Elizabeth laughed. "It's hard enough trying to work through your accent to translate for you. I don't speak 'Aussie.' So knock it off with the local slang, will you?" …_

He'd picked up a few signs here and there; most of his hesitation was strictly from feeling a bit intimidated. Didn't matter if it was ASL or Russian; if he couldn't understand what was going on, he felt lost, and that made him edgy.

It did help that both Sue and Connie were oral, and it seemed to be helping them that they didn't have to rely on their lip-reading to follow the conversation. So they were all relaxed enough that he felt a little more confident.

I HUNGRY, he signed. Or, that's what he had _intended_ to sign; he'd taken his right "c" hand and stroked it twice downward from his windpipe to mid-chest. He'd seen the sign before, and was fairly confident he'd done it right.

Four sets of rather wide eyes made him rethink that confidence.

"Crash?"

Bobby looked up to see Jack, apparently stopped mid-stride on his way to grab a soda out of the fridge. There was a mixture of surprise and a twitch around the lips that made the Aussie suspect his best friend was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Please tell me you didn't sign what I _think_ you just signed."

"What? I signed I was hungry," as he looked around with a silly smirk on his face. It faded a little as he saw the expressions, though. "Didn't I? Did I screw it up?"

Jack clapped Bobby on the shoulder and continued to the kitchen. "Oh Crash, you've so far to go," he said as he winked at Sue.

Bobby looked from face to face, seeking an explanation, beyond lost in a language so foreign to him. "Come on, someone has to tell me what I _actually_ signed."

Connie signed, HIM MAKE SOME WOMAN MUCH HAPPY ONE-DAY. A giggle was starting to escape, even as she tried not to let it, but it was combined with an amused sympathy in her blue eyes.

"What?" Bobby thought he'd caught at least part of what she'd signed, and it only served to heighten his confusion, and his growing certainty that he'd somehow goofed _big time_.

Myles couldn't resist any longer. Signing EXCUSE ME PLEASE to the ladies, he turned so that only Bobby could see him. YOU SIGN... He spelled it out slowly so that the Aussie couldn't possibly miss it. O-R-G-A-S-M.

Bobby's face went scarlet. "You're kidding, right? I didn't..." He glanced over at the ladies, who were all practically doubled over laughing. Then he found the humor in it as well, and a resigned chuckle escaped him as well. "I'm sorry; I have no idea _how_ I messed it up, but…"

"And _that_, Special Agent Manning..." Darcy D'Angelo stepped into his sight line with a wicked grin on her face, "is exactly why you should be very sure of what you're signing before you attempt it."

Bobby sank further into the armchair as he looked up and realized that the entire group was now gathered around. "What happened to all the other conversations going on? How did this one suddenly become the main event?"

Elizabeth regained her breath finally. "Because apparently you aren't the only one who is HUNGRY again." She exaggerated the _correct_ sign this time, the "c" or "claw" hand stroked downward _once_. He copied it very carefully, prompting another round of laughter, and she decided to rescue him. "I think it's time for dessert."


	3. Ch 1C

_10:00 pm_

The house was quiet now; Myles was just putting away the last of the good china in the hutch in the dining room when Elizabeth got back from taking Connie to the train station.

"So how come Connie didn't fly down?" he asked, turning to give her a kiss. "It would have been a lot shorter, and she could have had more time here."

She leaned against the china hutch. "A lot of times, being deaf has some other side effects— one of them being that it messes with your inner ear in other ways as well. The pressure from the altitude changes can give her a fair amount of pain, so Connie avoids flying if she can."

"Ah. Makes sense."

"Oh, by the way," she smiled at him. "Another note for your ASL skill-building. You don't have to include ME when you say 'Excuse me, please.' It's understood."

"Ok. Thank you." He signed it as well as spoke it.

"This was really nice today," Elizabeth said. "I mean, I know you like this place because it's a quiet escape most of the time, but having it filled with 'family,' so to speak—"

"— is a nice vision of what we have to look forward to?" He set the last dish in place and pulled her into his arms. "I know; I felt that same thing today."

She looked up at him, a touch of surprise on her face. "You're really ready to do this, aren't you?"

"Why does that surprise you?" he replied, stroking her cheek. "If I wasn't ready for it, I wouldn't have proposed." He reached over and flipped off the CD that had been looping all day as background music, switching over to the radio instead. "I'm not Bobby, sweetheart; I was just waiting for the right person, not clinging to bachelorhood until my dying breath."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, then I suppose we should get a date set, huh?"

"In a minute." A song had come on the radio that sealed the moment for them. He pulled her into a slow dance, letting the lyrics wind their way around and through them both:

_We've only just begun to live,_

_White lace and promises,_

_A kiss for luck, and we're on our way._

_Before the rising sun, we smile,_

_So much of life ahead,_

_We'll find a place where there's room to grow…_

She smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder, letting the promises of tomorrow fill her with a warmth that…

_Oh, no… no… _A cold chill was creeping across her mind as the scene from the last time they'd danced together in the dining room came back with a vengeance. Not the dance itself; but the situation and who had been observing them the entire time.

_Get out of my head, Graham, _she fought desperately. A bone-deep shaking was starting as well; her arms tightened around Myles as she tried to hold it off, and he pulled back to look at her.

"Uh-oh," he said quietly, knowing full well what was happening. He took her weight in his arms as her legs gave out and she started to cry. Settling them both gently on the floor, he held her tightly, knowing it was the only thing he could do until she'd released whatever it was that had come back to her. _Damn you, Evan Graham_, he thought fiercely. _Get out of our lives already._

After a few minutes, Elizabeth wiped at her eyes and looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Aren't you the one who's always giving me a hard time about apologizing too much?" he responded with a smile, pulling out a handkerchief and drying her tears. "Seems to me it's only fair you follow your own rules."

It had the desired response; she laughed slightly as she leaned against him again. "We just haven't spent much time in here since… oh, I _hate_ that I can't look back on that incredible evening you created without remembering that he was watching us the whole time."

Myles took her shoulders and pulled her back so he could look at her directly. "Maybe this is going to be harder than we expected, especially since so much of it focused on both of our homes." He thought for a minute. "What would you say if we sold _both_ places, and bought a new one? Start fresh?"

She shook her head angrily. "No, Myles. I will not let him run us out of here as well. I love this house, and I know you do, too. You told me you spent a month looking for a 'perfect' place, and you found it. I want to build our life together _here_." She got to her feet abruptly, and walked over to the French doors. In a single motion, she grasped the door handles and swung the doors open.

A full moon illuminated the snow-covered ground, and the trees glistened. There was no wind; just silence. She gazed purposely at the tall oak tree a couple of streets over where SOG had determined Graham had been perched the night he was watching them and photographing them together.

Myles walked over to her and put his arms around her from behind. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "It's just a house; if it's going to continue to prompt bad memories…"

She leaned back against him. "I'm sure," she said firmly. "And I had an idea this afternoon. You know Sam mentioned buying my place? What if I suggested Rachel's place instead? Connor's having an awful time selling it; he feels he has to disclose the fact that a murder took place there, and that's making it hard. His family could use the money right now. I don't need to sell mine for awhile yet, and I don't need to let anyone know about that mess Graham left in my bedroom."

"I think that might work. I don't know how Tara will feel about that, but it's certainly worth suggesting."

"Tara," said a voice from behind, "already mentioned it. She likes the farmhouse layout, and 'Fin can run laps on the porch." Sam was leaning against the doorsill, arms folded over his chest. "Or, I could just spring for all three places, and you'd all be set for life."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not this place, Sam. I'm not going to let Graham do that. And you really don't need _two _homes down here, unless you think Gregory needs a break."

Sam chuckled. "There are days that I suspect he does. We can talk about it later, though." He straightened, stretching a bit. "Well, kids, I think I'm gonna snatch a piece of pie and go wind down with a little MarioKart64. Have fun." He headed for the kitchen.

Elizabeth sighed. "Too bad we're long past that song on the radio. I'd like to try this again. With those doors still open."

A smile spread across Myles' face. "Well, if you swear never to reveal this little secret to my 'macho' co-workers…" He went over to the smaller CD rack he kept in the dining room and pulled one out. He waved it at her. "Throwback to high school. Had to add it to the collection."

She grinned at him. "Bet the Carpenters came in handy for schmoozing the girls, huh?"

"Admittedly." He set up the right track and walked back over to her. "But now there's only one girl I'm planning on 'schmoozing' for the rest of my life, so…" He drew her into his arms again as the music started. "So, do we want to start talking about a date, here, or you just want a little recovery time?"

She smiled up at him. "I say we set a date right now. Or, after this song is done." She moved closer to him, and gave him a gentle kiss as the music wrapped around them again.

_We've only just begun…_


	4. Ch 2: Interlude

**Chapter 2: Interlude**

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Friday, November 26_

_4 p.m._

Elizabeth sat back on her heels and surveyed her guest room. She'd spent a fair amount of the day boxing up "non-essentials," since there was little sense in putting it off. It would give her a chance to weed out things that she didn't need in combining households. Most of the surplus would go over to the women's shelter where she still volunteered; they were always in need of things to make the place "homier."

Her cell rang at her hip. "Hello?"

"Hey, Liz." Tara's voice was on the line. "Whatcha doing right now?"

"Getting ready to apply for a job at Interstate Van Lines," the psychologist quipped. "I've gained enough packing experience today."

Tara laughed. "Getting a jump on it, huh? Myles told us today that you guys had set a date."

"Yup. May first. So mark your calendar, because we want as many of you as we can get in the wedding party." She got up and went over to the bed, flopping onto her stomach and crossing her feet like a teenager. "So what has you calling me before work's out?"

"You feel up for a little shopping spree?"

"I think I could manage that. What's the occasion?"

Tara's voice got a mysterious edge to it. "Well, apparently Sam's decided to make a showing at 'Grand Maggie's shindig,' as he keeps calling it. He asked me to go with him."

Elizabeth drew in a breath. "Wow. That's progress and a half for him, considering what they told us yesterday morning. But what about whatever this is that Myles refused to discuss? Do you think this is a good idea, since he's obviously pretty worked up about it?"

"Dunno." Tara's shrug was almost audible. "But he's always a grouch over the holidays, more so than usual. Might be a good insight into why."

"True." She turned over on her back, stretching the kinks out from bending over most of the day. "But how do I go shopping with you when he's expecting me for dinner tonight, without tipping him off?"

Tara laughed. "That'll be easy, because I bet he'll be calling you in about ten minutes. Something came up on a case we've been following, and he'll be running a sting with D and Howie tonight. I don't have to hang around for it, so I'll just let him know I'll keep you company."

The psychologist swung her feet off the bed and got up. "Well, then, I guess I'll see you in a few minutes."

* * *

**Author's note: **Special thanks to _RivenRebelPoet_ for the creation of a truly weird guy... besides Sam, of course... **:-)**_

* * *

Corner of 14th and "E," Downtown D.C. _

_Friday, 8 p.m._

"Will you _please_ stop pacing, before I nail your feet to the floor?" It came out in a low volume, but the exasperation was still very clear.

Howie Fines swung around again. "I just got a bad feelin' about this, is all. You know, like when you walk into a room and it's too quiet, and you know that any second somethin' nasty is gonna walk up behind you and— hey!" The informant ducked as Myles aimed a swat at the side of his head.

"In a second, that 'somethin' nasty' is going to be _me_," the agent growled quietly. "Just take a breath already."

In reality, he couldn't really blame Howie for being nervous. There was something very different about this case, which should have been a routine setup on a dealer of counterfeit jewelry, a great deal of which had been finding its way into local high-end boutiques (much to the owners' dismay, since they were paying for the real thing). The evidence had finally come in solid, and now it was simply a matter of working their way up the ladder.

But the guy they were supposed to meet tonight was… the only word Myles could think of to describe him was _quirky_, and not in a normal, eccentric way. This guy made Sam at his worst look positively sedate, and even Howie paled in comparison.

Dimitrius was watching from the door of the abandoned tenement building they were in. "Here he comes. Look alive, gents."

Howie's pacing got a bit more frantic. "Hoh, boy…" He stopped abruptly as Myles reached out to snag him mid-lap. The shorter man cringed a little as the Harvard grad bored a glare through him. "I'm _sorry_, okay? This guy just gives me the willies like you wouldn't believe."

_Time for a different tactic, _Myles thought, realizing that this really wasn't just one of Howie's acts. He grabbed both of the informant's shoulders, a bit less roughly than he normally would. "Howie, listen, because I've only got time to say this once. Get a grip, because you're starting to make _me_ nervous. Which would you rather have; the guy we're meeting giving you the 'willies', or the guys who are here making sure you don't get yourself killed in the process being too nervous watching _you_ to be worried about what_ he's _doing?"

"I-I… I see your point," Howie replied, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Okay." He perched on a crate just as the door swung open.

Myles turned smoothly, watching as Dimitrius checked the guy for weapons. He leaned against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, pushing back the lined leather duster. "You're late," he said, allowing a touch of bored irritation into his voice.

"Time immemorial exists only to bind man in its fetters," was the cryptic reply.

Myles wasn't impressed, even as he felt Howie fidget beside him. "Well, the next time you're late, your fee gets docked by the same amount. How's that for liberation?"

The man stepped into what little light they had in the room. Almost manic blue eyes shifted around nervously. "Let us bargain, then." He opened a small leather case and began to lay out several necklaces and other pieces, all rich gold and set with precious stones – diamonds, rubies, sapphires. By the time he finished, there was a sizable pile.

Howie's eyes just about left their sockets. "Woah." He hopped off the crate and came over, picking up an emerald bracelet. "This is good stuff," he glanced at Myles, "really classy merchandise."

Myles rolled his eyes slightly— _Nice touch though, Howie, I have to admit. _"Well, thank you for your 'educated opinion,' but I think I'll get my own appraisal, if you don't mind. D?"

Dimitrius nodded, and came over to the table. He pulled out a jeweler's loupe and picked up a sapphire necklace. After a moment's inspection, he let out a low whistle. "Gotta tell you, Myles; Howie's dead-on. This is really top line stuff."

"If I did deal in goods untrue, then a dishonest man on all planes of mind I would appear." The man's face showed no trace of emotion.

Myles gave him another long look. _We have ourselves a real winner here,_ he thought. "How much for the whole load?"

"A bargain is a bargain if the bargainers do barter. You name your price and I will name my protest."

Howie was back on his crate, eyeing the other man as if he were about to sprout another head.

The man tilted his hand and gazed at Howie for a moment, before speaking in the same dry monotone from before. "What compels you to keep the company of the plebian?"

"Hey!" Nervous he might be, but the snitch had some pride. "Who you callin' a 'plebian'? I happen to know what that means, by the way, and I resent the in-sin-oo-ation! I'll have you know these gentlemen do business with me because they know I can deliver on ANYTHING." He jumped down from his perch and advanced a step or two. "So you just shut your yap and finish up with my associates here before I decide to do something..." He trailed off as Myles shot him a glare, and retreated once again.

The man ignored the outburst, and gazed up at the sky, eyes half closed. When he looked at Myles again, his icy blue eyes were dancing feverishly. "Haste with your greed-driven reasoning. Great Artemis is calling. I must away, as is his bidding."

Myles and D exchanged a glance. Then Myles slid one hip up onto the table and folded his arms over his chest. "500 grand for the load."

"800." The man snapped in reply. "You think to cheat me with your calm demeanor. I will not be a fool before such mortal men."

"650, and you want higher, you'd best take it to the guys you swiped it from." Myles' voice was hard as stone.

"Harsh words and placed upon the very precipice of peril." The man's voice was as cold as his eyes, now. "700, or I will find another more suitable recipient. I 'swipe' no man's treasure, only relieving him of the burden which he is too weak to bear."

Myles eyed the man for a very long moment, gauging just how ready the man was to walk away. Then he looked at the pile of gems spread out before him. He stood, leaned both hands on the table and came to within six inches of the man's face. Matching the frigid tone and look, he replied, "Done. D..."

Dimitrius brought a metal briefcase up onto the table and opened it.

A triumphant and eerily inhuman grin spread across the man's face, and he donned a pair of thin leather gloves. "I note that you are not standing in the common marketplace of such material, giving yourself over to the honesty of a common plane. It is good to know I deal with men who understand power and things greater than that which we see. Artemis will be pleased."

As their mark picked up the case, Myles slid his hand back and removed the .45 from its holster. "Only one problem, 'Socrates'," he replied, bringing the gun into line. "Artemis will be waiting on you for quite awhile. FBI."

Sudden repulsion, not fear, filled the man's eyes. "Fare it well to thine own mind that you can so arrest me, but be ye warned that with my absence will Artemis be testy. I will be avenged and with it comes a freedom more lofty than that which you could hope to obtain, for such a simple mind."

"Oh, stuff a sock in it," D quipped as he fastened the handcuffs.

Howie swaggered back over. "Hmph. Call _me_ a 'plebian.' At least _I_ have the foresight to ally myself with the right side." Much more relaxed now, he eyed Myles. "Y'know, I never woulda figured you for silk, but it actually works."

Myles rolled his eyes. "Can we just get out of here, please?"

* * *

_

* * *

_

Dillingham Residence, Georgetown

_Friday, 11 pm_

Elizabeth hung the garment bag in the closet and headed downstairs as she heard Myles' car pull into the driveway. He'd called a few minutes earlier to see if she was still up; it had sounded like the evening had been successful, but disturbing somehow. _Amazing how I'm learning to pick that up just from the tone of his voice_, she thought with a smile.

The knock on her door came as she got to the bottom step. _I must be in love, if a simple knock on the door sends my pulse racing._ When she opened the door, however, her eyes went very wide and her brows shot up.

"Good evening, Dr. Dillingham."

Myles leaned against the doorjamb. He hadn't bothered to change after the "sting," and the wind was blowing the long leather coat back, revealing the dark blue silk beneath and the black jeans. He watched her reaction, a silent straying of her eyes from his head to his highly-polished black boots, and felt a wash of warmth for her that he hadn't realized could still catch him by surprise.

After a long moment, she motioned him inside and turned to face him. A slow smile was working its way across her face. "Well, well." She cocked her head to one side, and the smile got mischievous. "Antonio Banderas you're not, but you'll do. But wasn't Halloween over a month ago, 'Señor Zorro'?"

He chuckled and caught her in his arms. "You know, if I'd wanted abuse, I could have just gone home. Sam would have been more than happy to oblige."

She placed a hand on the lapel of his duster. "Just not a look I'm used to seeing on you, love. I can't decide which I like better, the leather or the silk." A playful smile crossed her face as she looked up at him. "But the combination is positively lethal."

"Now you're just trying to get back on my good side," Myles grinned. "I don't recall 'The Fox' putting up with sharp-tongued señoritas."

Elizabeth laughed as he gently maneuvered her against the corner of the entry area and the staircase. "I don't believe he did. I can't seem to recall the tactic he used to quiet them, though." Her eyes were bright.

He caught her face in his hands. "I do."

She'd been expecting a classic "leading man" kiss, a capturing of her mouth guaranteed to leave her breathless. Instead, he stopped barely a hair's-breadth from her lips, then very gently brushed across them, not giving her time to respond before he followed it with a second, third, a series of kisses along the corners of her mouth and drifting down over her jaw line, her throat, to the one spot at the base of her neck he knew would make her breath catch.

Her hands slipped around his waist and over the silk shirt, sliding up his back and holding him tightly. His name crossed her lips on a shaken breath, and he could feel her pulse jump beneath his mouth. After a moment, he came back to her lips and tasted her in the way she'd been expecting. Then he released her, slowly.

"Wow." Her eyes were a bit foggy.

"So what was that about Antonio Banderas?" he asked with a smile, stroking her hair.

"Who?" Her eyes finally cleared, and sparkled as she looked up at him again. "Who needs a fantasy, when, at the risk of sounding completely corny, I have all the fantasy I need standing right here?"

He laughed. "Okay, I think you redeemed yourself from the Zorro quip."

She took a breath, and hugged him again. "Hungry?"

"Ravenous," he replied with a wicked grin, aiming one last nibble across her bottom lip. "But, since it's nowhere near May 1st, I assume you're referring to dinner."

Five minutes later, he was seated at her kitchen table, the duster tossed over the back of the next chair, with a sandwich and a glass of lemonade in front of him.

Elizabeth watched him for a moment. "You look like you've had an interesting evening; and I don't mean just the wardrobe. Anything you can share?"

He gave her an ironic look over the rim of the glass. "How about I have a new patient for you? Besides Howie."

"That bad, huh?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But it's a good start up the ladder on this case. This guy needs some serious help, though." He shook his head as he took a bite of his sandwich.

Elizabeth sat down next to him, leaned her cheek on her hand and smiled. "Couldn't be that bad, if he managed to get your mind off whatever you're dreading about tomorrow night."

His head snapped up, and only the fact that his mouth was full stopped him from an immediate retort. By the time he could speak, the sharp comeback had mellowed considerably. He sighed. "You know, I could have done without the reminder."

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "What is it, love? It's just a party. Even if it's the highest of highbrow, how bad can it be?"

Myles sighed again, leaning back in his chair and absently spinning his lemonade glass. "It's not that I don't want to tell you ahead of time, sweetheart… I guess I don't want to have to vocalize it any sooner than I have to. That means acknowledging it, and I avoid that for as long as I can."

"All right, love," she replied softly, squeezing his hand. "Whatever it is, I'm right beside you through it. I think you need some sleep."

He grabbed the last bite of his sandwich and nodded. When they got to the front door, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a lingering kiss. "I love you, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow at about five-thirty?"

Her brows went up. "The party isn't until seven, you said. Why so early?"

He sighed. "Part of what I'll explain tomorrow, okay?"

Elizabeth ran her fingers through his hair. "Okay. I love you, too, my dearest. Sleep well."

* * *

* * *

He stood for a long time, staring at the case on the shelf in the darkened study. A single glow from the desk lamp broke through the gloom.

"Why do you do this to yourself year after year?" Sam's voice slid around him.

Myles turned his head just slightly, another heavy sigh escaping. "Because it's easier than trying to explain to Grandmother why I don't want to do it anymore."

"It's masochism, bro. Plain and simple. What are you punishing yourself for?"

The Harvard grad snapped around to look at his twin. "You're starting to sound like Elizabeth."

Sam shrugged. "Spend enough time around shrinks, you learn the lingo." He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You don't have to make up for someone else's broken dreams. No matter how much they want you to. Make tomorrow night the last time, Myles. Don't let her do this to you anymore."

"Maybe." Myles shook off the leather duster and folded it over his arm. "I'm going to bed. I still have to put in most of a day tomorrow."

Sam Leland watched his twin trudge up the stairs, knowing sleep wouldn't come easily. Glorfindel wound his way around Sam's long legs, and he scooped the cat up, petting it absently as he continued to gaze thoughtfully at the stairs.

"'Fin, he doesn't know it yet, but he won't be alone this time. I'm not going to watch this happen any more." He closed the cabinet doors on his twin's secret, and headed for the guest room.


	5. Ch 3A: 'Tis the Season Opener

**Chapter 3: 'Tis the "Season (Opener)"

* * *

**

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Saturday, November 27th, 3 pm

* * *

_

"You ready for this?" Tara's voice on the other end of the line was shaking a bit.

Elizabeth laughed as she closed up a patient file and leaned back in her desk chair at home. "Tara, it's just a party. I've spent more time at these things than I care to. I know the drill."

"Good. Then you can hold me up."

"Tara, get used to it. Sam may not have been immersed in high society before now, but I get the distinct impression that he's planning on coming out of hiding in a big way." She twirled the phone cord around her fingers. "If you're going to be with him, then you need to get used to 'the scene.' It's really not so bad, once you know how to work the game."

There was silence on the line for a moment. Elizabeth gave it a second longer, then spoke softly. "Tara, the only person who can make you feel inferior is _you_. Sam doesn't, Myles doesn't, _I_ don't; none of us think any less of you because your background doesn't include debutante balls and closets full of overpriced clothing that get worn once and then discarded out of boredom. You know me; we've been friends for almost six years now. Have I _ever _given you the indication that any of that matters to me?"

"No, you haven't," Tara replied. "I'm just nervous. The way Sam describes her…"

"Tara, trust me; Sam will make sure that you have a good time, no matter how stuffy the rest of the guests turn out to be. You've been dating him for six months; you should know that by now."

Now Tara giggled, the tension draining away. "Very true. Hey, I think this is a personal relationship record for me."

Elizabeth grinned. "It wouldn't surprise me if shortly you have a chance to make that record last a lot longer. I think he wants the rest of his life to beat you at MarioKart."

Just then, her doorbell rang. "Gotta go, kiddo," she told Tara. "Someone's banging on my front door. Just relax and let yourself have fun tonight. I'll see you there."

"Okay, Liz. Thanks. Bye!"

She got up and went to the door. Swinging it open, she saw Sam Leland standing there, armed with a shopping bag from a local high-end boutique.

"Liz, you are looking at a desperate man."

She laughed. "So I see, if you've resorted to buying women's jewelry as a stress reliever. What's up?"

He bounded into the house, and immediately swung around. He took a single breath and let it all out.

"Tara told me you all went shopping for dresses, and I wanted to get her something pretty to go with it, but she wouldn't tell me even what color she was wearing, and so I have no idea which to pick, so I bought both, and now I need you to tell me if I did okay, and which one will go better, and then I can just save the other for Christmas unless you think she'll think I'm overdoing it, she's like that sometimes, and—"

Elizabeth held up a hand, laughing. "Whoa, there, bro-to-be. Take a breath, please." She led him over to the table and sat him down. "Now, since I _do_ know what Tara's wearing, why don't you show me what you bought, and I'll tell you which would go better."

"Okay," he breathed, "Okay." He pulled two square velvet-covered boxes out of the bag, and laid them on the table. He opened the first one to reveal a set of blood-red rubies, necklace and earrings, cut teardrop-style and bordered by a single row of tiny diamonds in a yellow gold setting.

"Wow." Elizabeth said, her eyes wide. "That's beautiful, Sam."

"I liked it because she's just, I don't know, a red-type of lady, but do you think it's too much or—" He stopped as she held up her hand again, a sheepish grin crossing his face. "Sorry. Here's the other one."

This set was in a white-gold setting, and it was stunning. Bright blue opals, fire-filled, oval-cut, shimmered in the setting. The necklace had a small series of filigree swirls at the top of each side, which were set with about five small diamonds each, and the earrings were topped by a single diamond each.

"Oh, Sam," the psychologist whispered. "This is… she'll love this, and it will go perfectly with her dress."

"You're sure?" he replied, his eyes troubled. "I really want this to be special for her. She doesn't think she'll fit in, and she's really nervous."

"I know, Sam. I just got off the phone with her." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me; this will make her feel like a princess."

"Oh, good." He leaned back in the chair, visibly relaxing. "Well, now that this particular dilemma is solved... got a soda?"

Elizabeth laughed and opened the fridge. She grabbed a soda, and water for herself, then turned around and gasped.

On the table lay a third open jewelry box. This one held emeralds in white gold; a beautiful necklace of alternating round-cut emeralds and diamonds, small enough to be unpretentious but breathtaking all the same. A pair of simple drop earrings accompanied the necklace, a small diamond at the top of each holding the slightly larger emerald just beneath it.

Her breath caught in her throat. "You're going to spoil her, you know."

Sam smiled mysteriously. "Maybe, if those were for her."

"They're not? But who…?" Her eyes got very wide as she looked up at him.

His breath came out in a laugh. "Tara _did_ tell me what you were planning to wear tonight. Sure hope you didn't change your mind."

"Sam, you didn't have to do this."

He shrugged. "So call it a belated engagement present. Or," he added, his voice going a little rough, "call it a very belated 'thank you' for all you did for me… us…"

Elizabeth shook her head. "You two found each other again. Don't try to give me credit for that. But, since I know better than to argue with you about this gift, thank you. It will go perfectly with my dress." She stepped over to give him a big hug.

"No prob. Truth is, the more completely knocked out Myles is when he sees you tonight, the easier this all will go. I'm having the Jag detailed as we speak. How often does he get to drive that thing, anyway?"

She sighed. "It's been a weird summer. We got to use it quite a bit just after you gave it to him, but then the serial murders and the trial, and now the aftermath… I do know he's taken good care of it, even if he just starts it up once a week to keep the engine from gumming up."

"Well, tonight you kids are showing up at Maggie's in style." Sam leaned back in the chair in a manner so reminiscent of Myles last night that Elizabeth had to smile. "It's about time he actually _enjoyed_ this little event. And somehow, Dr. Liz, I think you're going to play a big part in that."

She surveyed him for a moment, then sat back down at the table. "I'm not going to ask what you mean by that, but I hope you're right."

He stood, pulling her back to her feet and enveloping her in a huge bear hug. He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. "I'm always right, sis-to-be. It's part of the Leland genetic code. I need to go start planning another 'entrance' of sorts. I'll see you there tonight. You just concentrate on my twin's mind going completely blank when he lays eyes on you tonight."

Elizabeth laughed. "I'll do my best. You go work the same magic on Tara."


	6. Ch 3B

_5:30 pm

* * *

_

Myles knocked once on the door, then let himself into her house. "Sweetheart?"

"I'm upstairs, love. I'll be right down."

He grinned. "You mean I can't just come up and get a much-needed kiss?"

Her laughter floated down the stairs. "You just be patient for a second, and I'll be more than happy to oblige you with that kiss."

"Spoilsport."

"Well, you can tell me in a minute if it was worth the wait." She smoothed her hair back one more time, added another spritz of hair-spray, then picked up a small bottle of cologne and sprayed it lightly behind her ears and on her neck. It was his favorite, a light jasmine scent that tantalized without overpowering. She gave herself a final glance in the mirror, and thought, _Margaret Effingham, prepare to do battle. I don't know yet what you hold over him every year, but I will find a way to release him. And Sam's right behind me on this, so you haven't got a chance._

She stepped out of her bedroom, heart pounding. The last time she'd seen him in a tux was the night he'd proposed to her, and she'd been breathless at the sight of him and the setting he'd created. Tonight, it was her turn.

He was turned around, facing away from her, absently thumbing through a magazine she'd left on the kitchen counter. She reached the top of the stairs, purposely creaking the step she'd been meaning to have repaired for months.

Myles turned, and the look on his face made all her efforts worthwhile. Every minute of those two hours' getting ready had paid off.

He forgot to breathe; she was stunning. Her silver-white dress, straight and sophisticated, accentuated both her height and her slender body. Wide rows of silver beads crisscrossed the bodice and swept around her waist. A matching jacket completed the ensemble, the beadwork similar to the dress. At her throat and ears were emeralds and diamonds, a simple design that complemented her perfectly.

Her black hair was swept up in a classic twist, held back in a sparkling clip. Two single tendrils, curled into soft spirals, framed her delicate features and completed the sight.

"Well?" she asked softly as she reached him, smiling as she saw the answer already in his eyes. "Worth the wait?"

He nodded silently, still holding his breath. After a moment, he let it out and signed WOW to her. As she smiled brightly, he found his voice again, just barely. "Most definitely."

"Good," she replied. "I was under strict orders from your twin to make sure every coherent thought left your mind when you first saw me tonight. I guess it worked." He nodded mutely, and she drew him toward her and gave him a lingering kiss. When they parted, she rubbed a touch of lipstick from his mouth, and smiled up at him again. "Are you recovered enough to drive, or shall I?"

Now he smiled down at her. "You're not getting to drive the Jag that easily, sweetheart. Besides, you know it's _totally_ uncouth for us to show up at a high-society bash with you driving."

She sighed, but her smile remained bright. "It was worth a shot. So, do you want to tell me what's going on here, before you get behind the wheel, or tell me in the car so you have something to hold onto while you vent?"

Myles glanced at his watch. "I'd better tell you when we get there. We're running late."

* * *

_Just outside of the Effingham Estate_

_Falls Church, Virginia_

_6:00 pm

* * *

_

"Oh, my…" Her eyes got wide as they pulled into the circular driveway.

The "townhouse" was a huge plantation-style mansion, set against a backdrop of birch and blue spruce. White columns drew the eye upward to the balcony that wrapped around the second floor, where simple white lights accented the view. Lush topiaries, cedar with red ribbons, flanked the double doors on the spacious front steps. Red candles in brass hurricane lamps adorned each window. It was hardly unpretentious, but the effect came mostly from the house itself.

Elizabeth drew in a breath. "Okay; go back a generation, and your family has mine beat by a mile. This is what Sam calls a _'townhouse'_?"

He chuckled, a little nervously. "No, this is what my grandmother calls a townhouse. Never let it be said that the Effinghams let themselves be outdone by _anyone._"

He'd grown steadily more tense as they drove the 10 miles to Falls Church. Elizabeth could feel it in the way he'd gripped her hand, finally giving up and just gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles almost white. Now she turned to him and faced him squarely.

"All right, let's have it, love. What exactly are you so wound up about? Tara's told me that you are an absolute grouch from Thanksgiving to Christmas, and I suspect it has something to do with this party."

Myles sighed, leaning back in the leather seat. "It has everything to do with this party, and with my grandmother. This isn't an invitation; it's a command performance, barring nothing less than an imminent threat to national security, and I'd better have sufficient evidence to back _that_ up."

She smiled. "You mean, like, something blowing up on the news and images of you walking around, looking crisp and nearly burnt, in the background?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Something like that."

"So what's so all-fired important that you _have_ to be here?"

Another sigh. "It's something I used to love, and has just… well…" He gripped the steering wheel again, as if he needed to brace himself to actually say the words. "My grandfather, along with his business talents, was also a musician. He played with the Boston Symphony for several years, in the first chair violin spot. Being who he was, he of course had to have the finest instrument he could possibly find. So, he found and purchased a Stradivarius, and he played it for years."

Her eyes went wide. "A Strad? Wow."

Myles nodded. "With a tone like brushed velvet, I swear. Anyway, after he retired from the Symphony, there was some discussion of what would become of the violin. He wants it to be used, not just showcased somewhere. He used to say that musical instruments lose their real value lying on a shelf."

"He must be quite a person," Elizabeth said softly. "Not many would think that way of such an instrument." She reached out and pulled his hand off the steering wheel, holding it tightly. "Let me take a guess at this; of all your siblings and cousins, you're the only one who showed any interest in his view."

He glanced over at her, a single brow raised and an amused look in his eye. "How do you know all this stuff?"

She smiled again. "Because I know you, and I know you have a deep love of music."

"Well, you're right. No one else was interested in playing it, just owning it. I used to listen to him practice, and I'd get lost in it. He'd have to tap me with the bow to get my attention when he was finished." He seemed to relax a bit, and put his arm on the back of her seat. "So, he told me that one day the Strad would be mine, if I were willing to take lessons. I think I was about seven at the time."

Elizabeth's delicate brows went up. "You play the violin? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He sighed. "Because when I turned twelve, any joy I found in it vanished."

The pain in his eyes wrenched her heart. "What happened?"

"I loved it – loved practicing with my grandfather, hearing his encouragement, sharing that incredible music. He had a way of finding the soul of a piece, of making the violin almost pray." The baritone voice was soft as he got a faraway look in his eyes, remembering. "When I was twelve, I got to hold that Stradivarius for the first time. It was like picking up a piece of history, another long-time love of mine. And to play it… Elizabeth, it was like it _knew_ what I was doing before I did it. It was like playing a dream."

Now his head dropped, and his voice lost the softness. "That day, my grandmother Margaret happened to walk into the conservatory while I was playing the Strad. It was about a week before her annual Christmas party, and because we were headed into the holiday season, Grandfather had me playing 'Silent Night.' Grandmother stood there, listening, and when I finished she announced without preamble thatI was _perfect_ for her party, that her sister Teresa could accompany me and that it would be just the highlight of the season. Nothing I or Grandfather said made any difference."

The psychologist rolled her eyes slightly. "Been there, done that. Only with me it was ballet and a ladies' luncheon."

He chuckled slightly, but his mood really didn't lighten. "There was only one problem with Grandmother's plan. As much as I love my Aunt Teresa, she plays at one tempo: dirge."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes." Now his voice got a bitter edge to it. "But of course, Grandmother didn't hear that; she was just so overjoyed that her grandson could 'make that violin sing.' So it became a yearly summons; every year at this party, trying to salvage some part of that delicate hymn against the piano from Hades."

She laughed, but ran her hand up his arm at the same time. "That would explain the sour attitude toward the holidays. But why haven't I ever heard you play, or even seen the violin I assume _you_ own?"

"Because after the first two years of it, I lost any joy in playing. Every time I even _looked_ at my violin, I knew what was coming. I locked the violin in a cabinet, and only pulled it out the day after Thanksgiving to brush up on that one song. But I kept it, because to try to explain to my grandmother why I'd gotten rid of it was just too much for me to do. Grandfather knew how I felt, but he kept encouraging me to never let go of it completely, that the Strad would still be mine one day. It just didn't hold the same… appeal for me anymore."

"Oh, Myles."

He shrugged. "Come on, let's get this over with so I can enjoy the rest of the holiday season this year." Now he smiled as her reached over to stroke her cheek. "That's something I might actually be able to manage, thanks to a lovely lady in my life."

As he came around to open her door for her, Elizabeth brushed back a strand of hair and straightened. _Time to work up a little "sting" of my own._ She gave him a brilliant smile as she took his hand, her mind racing with the possibilities.

* * *

* * *

The foyer was, if anything, even grander than the outside of the place. Everything was open and airy, but richly decorated. The New England background was evident, however, because the magnificently carved banister on the staircase was varnished white pine, its grain left visible. The beautiful woodwork continued on the railing of the balcony that circled the upper level, and was showcased in a medallion twenty feet above on the ceiling.

They had no sooner stepped in and given their coats to the servant there when Margaret Effingham swept down that staircase, arms outstretched. "Ah, my favorite grandson," she crooned.

Elizabeth could feel Myles cringe next to her, even though he smiled at his grandmother. The woman was tall and spare, with an angular face and salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a severe bun. She was dressed to the nines, however, in peacock blue silk and sapphires the size of salad mushrooms. She embraced Myles ecstatically, and kissed his cheek; a carefully staged move, the psychologist noted.

"The conservatory is open, and Teresa is waiting to practice with you, while I can have a chance to get to know this lovely lady friend of yours."

Myles started to say something, but Elizabeth beat him to it. "Mrs. Effingham!" she said demurely. "How delightful to finally meet you. Your grandson has told me so much about you, and how he looks forward to this every year."

Margaret's penciled brows shot up at her forwardness, but said nothing. Myles squeezed Elizabeth's arm, a little hard, and she could feel his voice in her mind. _What are you doing?_

The psychologist smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry - Dr. Elizabeth Dillingham. Your grandson and I have been dating for just over a year. In fact, he recently proposed."

The brows went up further at the name "Dillingham," and she became considerably more cordial. "Yes, Anne has told me about you, Miss Dillingham. I look forward to chatting with you while Myles practices for tonight."

"Actually…" Elizabeth leaned toward her slightly and placed a hand on her arm. "I know that Myles would never bring this up to you," she said softly, "but I thought I would ask – do you think Teresa would be hurt if she didn't accompany Myles this year? I play the piano a bit myself, and I've been helping him practice."

She felt a laser glare boring through her shoulders; the second part of her comment was a total falsehood. He didn't know she played the piano any more than she had known he played the violin. But now wasn't the time to address that.

Margaret's eyes narrowed slightly.

_Gotcha_, Elizabeth thought. _You're no dummy, Margaret. I can tell right now that you know full well, and have for all these years, that Teresa's playing is less than desirable for accompanying. And yet you put Myles through it year after year. No more. Check._

Margaret Effingham smiled graciously and took Elizabeth's arm. "My dear, I don't think she'd be offended at all. Of course you may accompany Myles. Let me show you both up to the conservatory, and you can tune up and practice a bit."

_And mate_. Elizabeth accompanied Margaret up the stairs, with Myles just a step behind. She could feel the anger emanating from him like a flame, but chose not to look at him until they were alone.

But a slight smile crossed her face as she anticipated the earful she was about to get.

* * *

* * *

Margaret closed the doors to the conservatory. Elizabeth was very still, waiting to take a full dose of Leland temper.

Myles walked over to the doors and opened one slightly, making sure that his grandmother was gone. Then he closed the door again and swung on her. "Would you mind telling me why it is that everything I just said seems to have gone in one of your ears and out the other without registering in your brain? I don't care who I have for a pianist, I _don't want to do this anymore!_" He turned away and began to pace the room, still ranting.

She let him vent; he needed it after years of burying it in the name of family duty. After a few minutes, she knew he was no longer even aware she was there.

She moved over to the grand piano, running her hand over the smooth surface. On a small table nearby, cushioned on midnight blue velvet, was the Stradivarius. The rich wood glowed; this was obviously an instrument that got used and cared for. Very gently, she stroked a finger over the strings. It was already tuned, and even the slight sound she got was enough to make her heart skip. _A masterpiece even just lying there…_

A quick glance at Myles told her he was still ranting, but it was starting to die down a little. _Time to begin the next level of the "sting."_

She sat down at the piano. A piece of sheet music was laid out on the stand, and she ran a finger over it. Then she double-checked the key it was in, and began to play. Only she wasn't playing the written music; she began a series of arpeggios that followed the chord progression, creating a delicate accompaniment that would highlight the violin.

It wasn't until she'd gotten through the second verse that he stopped pacing and turned around, the music finally registering with him. She played the third verse, with him staring at her the whole time, and let the final notes fade away. Then she reached over to the small table and picked up the violin's bow. She held it out to him, a smile on her face and a challenge in her eyes.

"Let's see what you've got, Maestro."

He stared at her a moment longer, then slowly walked over and took the bow from her. He looked over at the violin, and she saw a faint light in his eyes; as if he'd discovered a long-lost friend but was afraid to make the first step. He looked at her again, a bit of that fear showing through.

Her voice was soft. "Give it one more chance, Myles. It's not your grandmother's 'dreams' I'm concerned with; it's yours. After what I saw on your face while you were talking about playing with your grandfather, I can't just let you walk away from it without letting you see if it's really dead inside you."

He looked at the violin again, and she could feel something spark in him. She reached over and laid her hand on his, where it was resting on the edge of the piano. When his gaze swung back to her, she said, "Besides, I'd hate for you to give it up without hearing you play, just once."

Myles nodded silently, still giving her a strange look. He picked up the violin gently, examined it for a moment, and wiped a spot or something off of the gleaming finish. Then he ran his fingers across the strings, and she played an "A" for him to make sure it was tuned. He nodded slightly, then cradled it under his chin.

She began to play the arpeggios again; after a beat, his eyes drifted closed and he began to play.

Her eyes never left him; she was as caught up in his expression as she was in the music. As the violin sang through the first verse, Elizabeth saw the tension drain out of him, leaving behind an almost transcendent glow in his face. He was twelve again, playing an extension of his soul, immersed in the incredible tones of the Strad before his grandmother had made it unbearable.

At the end of the first verse, he opened his eyes. The wonder in them was almost tangible. He held her gaze as she played an interlude, then nodded to him to continue.

Two verses later, eyes locked the entire time, they finished, Elizabeth ending with a series of soft notes that wound their way up the keys. When the last note faded, Myles stared at her for one more long moment, then gently placed the violin back on its cushion. He ran his hand lovingly over the instrument, then turned to her.

He lifted her left hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss near her engagement ring. "You know," he said softly, his voice a bit rough, "if I hadn't already asked you to marry me two weeks ago, I'd be asking right now. Thank you."

She started to say something, rising from the piano bench, but he took her by the shoulders and eased her back down. "Stay right there. There's someone who needs to hear this." And he walked out of the room, not using the doors leading downstairs, but instead a side door she hadn't noticed before.

_What's this all about? _she wondered.


	7. Ch 3C

* * *

The door opened. "Why, Mr. Leland! How good to see you!" 

Myles smiled. "Violet, you've been Grandfather's nurse for ten years now. Will you _please_ call me Myles?"

There was a laugh under the woman's breath. "Not within earshot of your grandmother. I like my job."

"Well, she's downstairs, so quit worrying." He peered over her shoulder. "Is Grandfather up to a visitor?"

A strong voice, a bit tremulous, answered from behind her. "Of course I'm up to a visit from my grandson. Get yourself in here."

Violet chuckled again as Myles stepped in and went to his grandfather's bedside. The old man was propped up, surrounded by more medical equipment than DC General. Most of it was unnecessary; his grandfather had Parkinson's disease, which left him trembling noticeably and unable to fend completely for himself, but most of the equipment was to appease Margaret, who was intensely overprotective.

"So what brings you in here? I figured Teresa would have you hostage in the conservatory by now."

Myles chuckled. "Actually, that's why I'm here. You feel up to a little field trip?"

The old man's eyes twinkled. "To listen to Teresa? What are you trying to do, get your inheritance early?"

The Harvard grad grinned. "Granddad, I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy. Hmm… well, perhaps to one of my co-workers, but…" He shook his head slightly. "Trust me, there's someone you need to meet and something you need to hear."

Reginald Effingham gave his grandson a piercing look, then smiled broadly. "Well, then, let's go. Violet, saddle up the wheelchair."

* * *

.

* * *

She was playing through the piece again when Myles opened the door. Reginald looked up at his grandson from the wheelchair. "Either Teresa's been under the knife considerably, or this must be the young lady Anne's been telling me about," he said softly. 

Myles chuckled. "Since I doubt Aunt Teresa would ever stoop to plastic surgery, I'd go with your second assumption."

At the sound of their voices, Elizabeth stopped suddenly and turned around. She started to rise, but the old man raised a shaky hand. "Don't you dare, miss. If you stand up, I'm going to feel obliged, and Violet's likely to hog-tie me if I do."

The psychologist laughed. "We can't have that, can we?"

"I like her already, Myles. Are you going to introduce us or not?" The gruff voice was belied by the twinkle in his eye.

The younger man laughed again. "Granddad, I'd like you to meet Dr. Elizabeth Dillingham. Elizabeth, I present my grandfather, the honorable Reginald Effingham the Fourth, Esquire."

"Good heavens, Myles, you're going to scare her off before I even get a chance to know her."

Elizabeth smiled and held out her hand. "Believe me, Mr. Effingham, it takes more than a highbrow name to scare me off."

Reginald eyed her for a moment, then took her hand and brought it to his lips. "I would imagine, since I'm assuming you're David Dillingham's granddaughter. I can see the family resemblance, though you obviously got your wit from somewhere else. And, if you've managed to capture my grandson's rather sheltered heart, then I think you'd best start calling me 'Granddad' as well."

"You're on."

The old man looked up at Myles. "Now, you said there was someone I needed to meet, which I have, and also something I needed to hear. I'm not getting any younger sitting here."

The agent nodded, grinning. "All right, all right." He turned to Elizabeth. "In case you hadn't noticed, Granddad is very used to having things his own way."

"I hadn't noticed," she replied playfully. "But I suppose we should humor him." She flashed a radiant smile at the old man, who shook a finger at her.

"You, young lady… are perfect for my grandson here. It's about time, Myles."

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

Reginald laughed. "By all means." He settled back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.

Myles picked up the violin again, checked to make sure it was still tuned, then flashed a smile at Elizabeth and nodded for her to begin.

It was a repeat of the first time; they were lost in each other and the music before they even finished the first verse. _This is how I've always heard it in my head_, Myles thought to himself. _How marvelous to finally hear it out loud, and that Granddad can hear it as well. This is what I've always wanted to do for him._

When they finished, he turned to the old man and was astonished to see tears coursing down the wrinkled cheeks. He laid the violin down and knelt by the wheelchair. "Granddad?"

Reginald Effingham drew in a shaky breath before he spoke. "You tell your grandmother this is the last time you're going to run her maze. Then, after tonight, you take that Strad home. It's yours now."

Myles' brows shot up. "But…"

The old man placed a hand on his arm. "You think I don't realize what you've been through over the last twenty-plus years? That this has been sheer torture for you?" He dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't put a stop to it earlier. I had hoped that one day you'd just tell her you'd had enough, and that you would rediscover the joy of it for yourself. But I guess perhaps the 'family duty' speech got drilled into you one time too many."

"Granddad," Myles replied softly, "now I'm glad you _didn't _stop it. I'd probably have given up altogether."

"Perhaps." Reginald looked up again, and now he gathered Elizabeth in with his eyes as well. "But the two of you… you deserve a chance to explore the harmonies without outside interference. There will be no further 'summons' — I promise you that." He reached out and took Elizabeth's hand as well. "Thank you for making his dreams reality."

She shrugged delicately, a bright smile on her face. "Just returning the favor."

"I can tell." He placed their hands together and looked up at Violet. "Well, don't just stand there, woman. Pull out my tux and brush off the moths. It's about time I made an appearance at one of these monsters."

The nurse laughed merrily. "Yes, sir. But _you_ have to run interference with your wife for me."

Reginald Effingham grinned broadly. "Don't you worry. I've been saving up my energy, and my temper, for just such an occasion."

* * *

.

* * *

Myles and Elizabeth walked out onto the balcony from the conservatory, pausing to take in once again the sweeping grandeur of the place. Elizabeth turned and stepped into his arms. "I like your grandfather. He's quite a character." 

The agent laughed softly. "Yeah, Granddad's a card, all right. But I've never seen him go head-to-head with Grandmother before. This should be interesting."

"Well, I'm betting on 'Granddad' to come out the victor. Besides, he already told you to tell her 'no more' anyway."

Myles' expression softened into a bit of wonder. "I never knew… never asked why he didn't do something… why he let her insist year after year… it wasn't, didn't seem like my place to be the one to rebel, so I left it up to him. And all the while, he was leaving it up to me."

"Now you both can tell her." She stretched up and gave him a gentle kiss. "Well, let's go see what the setup is for later, and see if anyone else has arrived."

They started down the stairs just as the doorbell chimed. Margaret's voice echoed from below. "No, Stewart, I'll get it. You finish up there."

She swept out into the foyer and opened the doors. "Welcome! I—" Her voice died in her throat, and Myles stopped mid-step.

"Grandmother." Sam Leland, impeccable in a black tux accented with silver tie and cummerbund, with Tara on his arm, couldn't have made a better entrance. For a moment, Margaret was speechless, and her eyes flew up to the conservatory doors, her face a mask of bewilderment. When she saw Myles and Elizabeth on the stairs, though, she realized she wasn't in the midst of a magic trick.

Myles leaned over to Elizabeth. "Did you know about this?" he whispered to her as Margaret mutely stepped back to let the couple inside.

The psychologist nodded. "Yes; he felt he needed to do it for a couple of reasons, only one of which was for himself."

"He was going to brave this 'monster,' as my grandfather so eloquently put it, on _my_ account?" The blue-grey eyes were wide. "Wow."

"That was part of it," she replied. "But mostly this is for him. He decided it was time to 'beard the dragon lady,' I think is the phrase Tara quoted." Now she gave him a solemn gaze. "You going to be okay with a co-worker knowing your little musical secret?"

He thought for a minute, then smiled. "If it were anyone else, I'd be a lot more nervous. I've learned over the years that I can trust Tara. Besides, I suspect she'll probably be my sister-in-law in not too many more months, so there are only so many secrets I can still keep."

"True," Elizabeth laughed. "Shall we go lend a little moral support?"

Myles held her back. "Actually, no." At her surprised glance, he clarified. "Not just yet. Give him a chance. He's been waiting for this, I can tell."

Margaret Effingham had finally found her voice again. "Samuel… this is certainly a surprise."

"I'm sure it is." Sam flashed a crisp smile. "I hope I haven't overstepped any boundaries. I simply assumed the family invitation included me. That is alright, isn't it?"

Margaret looked over at Myles again, who merely shrugged as if to say "What?" Then she turned back to Sam, a practiced smile crossing her lips. "Why, of course it's all right. Do come in, and introduce me to your lovely companion."

A flicker of a genuine grin crossed Sam's face, and they stepped inside. "Grandmother, may I introduce you to Miss Tara Williams, of Washington, D.C. Tara, my grandmother, Margaret Effingham."

Myles had to smother a grin as Tara stepped forward and held out her hand as demurely as if she'd been debuted at age sixteen. He whispered to Elizabeth again. "Okay, which of the two of you talked her into this? This isn't exactly a comfort zone for her."

"It took a couple of little pep talks, and I'm sure those blue opals you see around her neck and on her ears didn't hurt," she whispered back. "But I think you'll find she's ready for this."

"Oh, I have no doubt. But is Grandmother?"

* * *

.

* * *

Tara was glad that Sam had decided to make his entrance a little early; she wasn't sure that his grandmother could have handled it in the midst of a crowd. She internalized the smile tugging at her lips, and watched the older lady. 

A few hours earlier, she had been as nervous as Margaret Effingham looked now. But Sam had cured all that...

_Sam pressed the doorbell, and nervously drummed the fingers of his other hand against his leg while he waited. The jewelry box was in his pocket— he had debated holding it in his hand, but was afraid he'd crush it if he had to wait very long._

_Slowly, the door swung open. There stood Tara, in a gown that defied description. Strapless, hugging every curve and then flaring to sway around her legs, it gave the impression that she was floating. The simple lines of it made an elegant statement, and the color deepened her eyes until he was certain that her soul was evident to the whole world. He was positive thedeep purplehad an actual name, but he couldn't remember what it was. Breathing was taking too much of his concentration. Finally, he managed to force his lips to form a word. "Wow... you're... wow."_

_Tara dropped a bit of a curtsy. "Why, thank you, Sam." Her cheeks colored a little. "I think 'wow' covers the way you look, too."_

_He shook his head vehemently. "There's no way I'm that good looking. I can't wear dresses." He swallowed hard, and continued staring for a minute. Then he blinked and grinned, "Oh, yeah...I have something for you."_

_She smiled. "Why does that not surprise me? And it's useless to argue, as usual?"_

_Sam's grin widened. "Of course, milady. I'm not risking the return counter— those people are mean. You have to keep it."_

_Her smile gained a sad quality. "You keep it up, and I'm going to have all the trappings of a highbrow; too bad you can't do something about the pedigree or the upbringing."_

_One brow arched, in a perfect imitation of Myles. "There are ways..." Sam smirked at her. "But that wouldn't be as fun as shocking all the rich people." _

_She turned away from him, rubbing her hands on her arms as if to combat a chill. "Sam, I'm serious; I feel like I'm going to walk in there tonight among all those socialites and have this huge flashing neon sign on my forehead that screams 'common.' I mean, we've done stuff like this during undercover assignments, but that was just pretending." Now she faced him again. "This is real."_

_The smirk faded, and he was suddenly serious as he stepped inside and pulled the door shut. He brushed one strand of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, and then gently took her by the shoulders. "Yes, it is real. And you'll be fine. I'll be with you the whole time, and God help anyone who so much breathes the wrong way near you. They may have some high-and-mighty view of themselves, but they're just people, too."_

_She sighed. "Liz said the same sort of thing earlier... that it didn't matter. I just...can't help feeling like Cinderella, the common girl who's just playing a princess and it all goes away at midnight."_

"_We'll stay past midnight and prove you wrong, then." Sam hugged her to him, and dropped a kiss in her hair. "You've been my princess for months now. It's just time everyone else saw you that way­— and they will, I'm sure of it."_

_Tara couldn't help but giggle. "A princess who regularly creams you at MarioKart? You have some strange ideas on royalty." She reached up and ruffled his hair. "But thank you. You make me feel like a princess."_

_He grinned down at her, speaking with a false British accent. "I do try, milady. I do try." While he spoke, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the jewelry box. He held it up for her to see, and dropped the accent. "Every princess needs something special to wear."_

_Tara's eyes went wide at the sight of the glowing opals. "Oh, Sam," she breathed. "They're...they're the prettiest things I've ever seen. I don't know what to say."_

_He dropped his voice to a whisper, and teased. "'Thank you' usually works pretty well."_

_She smiled playfully. "Tell you what; you put this necklace on for me, and then I'll give you a 'thank you' that will curl your toes. How's that sound?"_

_Sam gulped, and nodded hastily. He fumbled with the latch on the necklace, and slipped the thin chain around her neck. After a second's struggle, he moved around her so he could see the clasp. A soft click sounded and his hands trailed down the excess chain, to the middle of her back, and then stepped back slightly._

_She turned, and caught his hands. Stretching up onto her toes, she whispered, "Thank you for making me feel like a princess even without spending a dime. And for keeping my life beyond fun." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips, then slid her hands up his arms and around his neck. When they parted, he shook his head a bit._

"_Wow… that was way better than anything. Even the ending of Final Fantasy X."_ …

She smiled at the memory, and drew her attention back to the present. Margaret was just asking Sam, "So, it has been quite awhile, Samuel. What have you been doing with yourself?" The old woman's voice was so blatantly rehearsed that Tara felt like slapping her.

But Sam just leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and draping one arm across the back. "Recently? I'm purchasing a house in the D.C. area. And my broker has been brilliant this quarter; I've been involved in several very nice stock rises."

Margaret's penciled brows went up. "That's...wonderful. It sounds like you're doing quite well for yourself. I'm sure the Capitol will be a splendid area for you."

"I'm sure it will be. I already love it." Sam glanced behind her. "Actually, there is something else that brought me here tonight, Grans." He watched her wince at the term and smothered a grin, but also caught a movement behind her. He raised a brow as Myles shook his head quickly and made a cutting motion across his throat. _It's ok, Sam_, echoed briefly in his head, _I've got it covered_.

"Really?" Margaret looked ready to bolt, but she maintained her composure. "What would that be?"

Now he smiled. "Entirely too long since I saw Granddad, of course. He's up to a visitor, I hope?"

The relief on her face was comical. "I'm sure he would love that. I'll see if he's feeling up to it."

_Time to rescue Grandmother_, Myles thought with a delighted smile at his twin. _Nice work, bro_. He took Elizabeth's arm and walked into the parlor. "Actually, Grandmother," he said aloud, causing her to whirl around, startled, "I believe Granddad is upstairs right now getting 'all gussied up,' as he phrases it. He's planning to make an appearance tonight."

"He is?" The woman looked utterly bewildered. "Well, this year's event is just going to be full of surprises." She stood, trying to regain her composure. "I should see if he needs any help, then. Will you all excuse me for a few minutes? By all means, help yourselves to a glass of wine or cider, if you wish." She started out of the room, then glanced back just once at the foursome; her poise couldn't quite cover up for the obviously flustered feeling working its way through her.

They waited until she was upstairs; then Myles couldn't stand it any longer. He eyed his brother with a grin. "'…and my broker has been brilliant this quarter'?" he imitated. "You're going to kill her off from sheer confusion."

"Well, he has!" Sam protested. "I just don't...usually talk about it."

"That's not what I meant," Myles chuckled. "She kept looking at you like you were going to leap up and swing from the chandelier any second, and you're sitting here calmly discussing stocks..."

"I was tempted," Sam gave the chandelier a rueful glance. "Very tempted. But the look on her face was worth it."

Elizabeth shook a finger at him, giving him a fond look at the same time. "You enjoyed that immensely, didn't you? Not that I blame you."

Now the easy grin reappeared. "Oh, you have no idea, Liz. But even after all these years of her ignoring me, I just couldn't bring myself to retaliate the way I could have. No sense stooping to her level." He turned to his twin. "So, you said you have it all under control? And here I was all ready to rescue you. What happened?" Sam eyed Myles carefully, trying to judge his brother's reaction.

The agent just smiled and shrugged slightly. "Let's just say 'enough.' In more ways than one. You'll see." He eyed his co-worker for a moment. "Tara, I must say, you do wear it well. Welcome to the intricate world of high society. I think we have a most numerous set of things to celebrate. Would you all prefer cider or a glass of wine?"

* * *

.

* * *

A few hours later, the party was in full swing. Elizabeth now had a very good idea of exactly _why_ Myles hated this event and everything it represented. Margaret obviously invited the same group of socialites every year, and they were all as sick of hearing the ill-fated duet as Myles was of participating in it. Oh, they were all very cordial and polite, but the air of pity around them as they made their chitchat was tangible. She knew it was like a vise around her fiancé's head and heart. 

In fact, she could tell now just by looking at him. Most wouldn't notice it, but his jaw tensed more with every "reacquaintance," and he'd given up on the cider an hour ago and now nursed a single neat Scotch. The blue-grey eyes were ice, but not like when he was working. _That _glare held a fire in the midst of its depths; this was sheer arctic frost.

_He'll be a wreck again by the time we have to do this_, she thought. _Time to lighten the mood a bit_. She stepped over and laid a hand on his arm. "Got a minute?"

Myles glanced down at her. "I suppose." His voice reflected his mood as well.

Elizabeth gently took the glass from him and set it down. Then she slipped her arm around his waist and murmured. "Let's go take a break."

He nodded toward where Sam and Tara were caught up in a conversation with several other people. "Should we let them know we're deserting them?"

She caught Tara's eye and quickly pointed upstairs, then signed MUSIC ROOM. Tara nodded, and signed TIME MINUTES FEW WE MEET? BREAK ALSO (ALIKE) NEED.

OK, Elizabeth replied. Then she took Myles' arm and moved out into the foyer and up the stairs.

As soon as they were behind the closed doors of the conservatory, she turned, slid her hands up his shoulders and kissed him intensely. She didn't release him until she felt most of the tension drain away again, and by the time _that_ happened they were both breathless.

His voice was a bit unsteady, even as his gaze burned her. "Was that for your benefit, or mine?" he asked with a smile.

"Both," she replied, matching his expression. "I just thought perhaps you needed a reminder that tonight _isn't_ going to be like all the others. The fact that it also gave me a chance to enjoy those wonderful kisses of yours was merely a bonus."

Before he could reply, she put a finger to his lips. "You're not alone in this any more, love. You have your grandfather behind you, and Sam, and _me_. And not one of us is going to let you hate this night, no matter how many highbrow social-climbers look down their proper noses at you in pity or whatever I was seeing down there. They have _no idea_ what's coming, Myles. That room will be dead silent the entire time; you wait and see if I'm right."

"May I speak now?" His voice was distorted slightly by her finger. When she smiled and drew her hand away, he reached up and stroked her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. "I know tonight will be different; and I appreciate you pulling me out of that fiasco down there. But I really don't care what anyone else thinks tonight; this is for Granddad alone. My anger down there was more for Aunt Teresa's sake this time. Those pitying comments directed at me? They were also slurs against her. Grandmother put her through the same torture year after year, made her a laughingstock… I guess, now that I know this is almost over, I realize what it did to Aunt Teresa as well."

"I'm surprised she put up with it."

He turned her around, and they stepped over to the window, gazing out at the lights that sparkled in the front yard. She leaned back against him, and he rested his cheek on her hair. "I think she _did_ try to tell Grandmother a few times. But, as you may have noticed, it's not that easy to tell Grandmother _anything_ that isn't already ingrained in her own mind. So Teresa kept going, just like I did, just like Granddad did." He smiled against her. "Until _you_ came along and caught her completely off-guard."

"It's a gift," she grinned. "Hey, I figured that if I managed to get past that first date with you, I could worm my way into anyone's good graces. And I also assumed that Margaret already knew this was a farce, but that she was too stubborn to admit she'd made a mistake. I simply gave her a way out."

He raised a brow and drew her face around toward him. "You _wormed_ your way into my good graces, huh?" he smiled. "Seemed to me like it was the other way around, considering how I was a complete jerk that night. I'm glad you thought I was worth the effort." He brushed the corner of her mouth with his lips, then drifted up over her cheek, her forehead…

"I told you they were up here making out." Sam's voice echoed behind them.

Myles smiled, even as he murmured against Elizabeth's lips. "Did you hear something?"

"I think so," she replied. "It seems to happen periodically when we're kissing. I'm wondering if perhaps it's simply a psychological phenomenon associated with the anticipation of getting married."

He laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Yeah; it's called 'little brother syndrome'." He turned and gave Sam a grin.

His twin gave it right back to him. "At least _I_ choose to space my affectionate gestures out a bit." He made a show of giving Tara a lingering kiss on her neck, causing her to giggle. "You two are just joined at the lips. By the way, Grans is looking for you. Apparently it's 'showtime'."

Myles straightened, and held out his hand to Elizabeth. "We're ready."

* * *

.

* * *

He may have been ready for the "concert," but the last thing Myles expected as they came down the stairs was to hear rather irate voices coming from a small room just off the foyer. The door was ajar slightly, and his grandfather's voice reached them clearly, even with the noise of the party. Myles stopped so fast that Sam almost collided with him from behind. 

"Margaret, you have put that boy through enough. This _will_ be the last command performance. If you still want him to play at your Christmas soirée, then you will _ask_ him from now on, _not_ insist. And if he says no, you will accept that with that practiced graciousness of yours."

Her voice rose. "Since when have you made it your business? All these years, and you've never lodged a protest. Why _now_?"

Although they couldn't see him, all four of the younger people could picture Reginald Effingham drawing himself to his full height. "I should have done it years ago. I sat back and watched every ounce of enjoyment he ever had in that violin drain out of him at these monsters of yours, and I won't watch it any more." He paused, apparently waiting for another protest from her, but there was only silence. "And another thing," he continued, "I will be making tonight's introduction."

They heard her gasp.

"That's right, Margaret. I'm making sure that this ends here and now."

Myles steered the group quickly out of sight as they heard Margaret huff and stalk toward the door. A moment after she passed them, they saw Reginald Effingham walk slowly out of the room, brush down his tuxedo jacket, and sink into the wheelchair Violet had waiting for him.

"Well, that's that," he said to the nurse, a grin beaming, "now I can start recharging for the next time." As they headed back into the party, the old man turned his head slightly toward where Myles, Elizabeth, Sam and Tara were concealed.

"Didn't know the old man had it in him, huh?" he murmured. "Learned a lot from a couple of stubborn grandsons."

A pair of grins in response had him chuckling as he left the room.

* * *

.

* * *

The bright clink of silver on crystal brought heads around and conversations to a halt, particularly when the guests saw who was standing at the grand piano in the main room. Reginald Effingham stood to his full height, and ignored the trembling in his hands as he boomed out, "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our home, and Happy Holidays." 

There was a murmur of reply, intermixed with a surprised rumbling at this unusual occurrence. The old man ignored it as well. "As well you know, we have a tradition at this shindig, and this year is no exception. In a moment I will introduce my grandson, who has graciously entertained you for the past twenty-some years." He paused, acknowledging the almost-silent collective groan. Myles flinched a little, and Elizabeth saw an aged lady sitting near the fireplace hide her face in her hands.

"Now," Reginald continued, a slight smile on the wrinkled face, "This year is a little different, in a few ways. First of all, my dear sister-in-law, Teresa, will not be accompanying on this piece. We feel she's more than paid whatever debt got her into this, and listened to far too many 'indirect comments' these past years." Now a genuine, affectionate smile was aimed in Teresa's direction, and she returned it with a grateful nod. "Instead, my grandson's new fiancée will play for him instead. And I hope you all take the opportunity to listen this time, because it will be Myles' final commandeered performance. I expect you'll find it a fitting 'swan song.' I most certainly do." He gestured gracefully to Myles and Elizabeth. "Myles, the stage is yours."

Elizabeth smiled and murmured, "Doesn't pull any punches, does he?"

"Nope." Myles picked up the bow of the Stradivarius, which had just been brought out, and then checked the tuning of the violin one more time. Then he took her hand and raised his voice to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present my lovely wife-to-be, Elizabeth Dillingham, who will accompany me tonight." That he could have said much more in the way of censure to this pompous group, but did not, made her love him all the more as he gently seated her at the piano and picked up the violin. _Let the music speak for itself_ shone in his blue-grey eyes as he gazed at her, and she heard it in her head almost as if she had momentarily tapped into the "twin-speak" he shared with Sam.

Tara's very wide eyes and Sam's proud smile were the last things that registered in her mind before she focused on Myles and began to play.


	8. Ch 3D

* * *

"You two were completely alone in this room, weren't you?" Tara was saying. "The whole time… I could tell." 

Myles shrugged a bit. "It's easier to concentrate on the music if you can block out your audience. That's all."

She slugged him on the shoulder, grinning. "Right. And you're going to tell me that you two weren't completely lost in each other. Nice try." Now she wrapped her arm around his and squeezed slightly. "It was absolutely breathtaking," she said softly. "Sam filled me in a little just before you started to play. This is what's wound you up every holiday season since I've known you, isn't it?"

"And then some," he replied. "I'm not sure now how I'm going to explain the change to the rest of the team. Someone's bound to notice. Even Lucy never knew about this. But I don't really want to go back to being 'Scrooge' all season now; would diminish what happened here tonight. Still, too much of a change all at once would raise a few eyebrows…"

Tara looked at him in gentle exasperation. "Why don't you just get over that Leland pride around the rest of us, who've considered you family all these years no matter how obnoxious you can get, and _tell them the truth_? It's not like it's going to destroy that carefully orchestrated 'image' of yours. Oh, I'm sure Bobby will give you a bit of grief over it, but you can live with that. It's not like he won't find something new ten minutes later."

Myles had to laugh. "True. Tell you what; I'll think about it."

"I can always crash his computer so he has other worries than razzing you," she quipped mischievously.

"That's okay," he grinned back. "Since you've more than proven I can trust you, I'll fill you in on something that _I_ can distract him with." He whispered in her ear for a moment; she drew back, astonished. "Now, not a word," he admonished with a secretive smile. "You'll spoil all my fun."

Tara shook her head. "Too many more secrets, and I'm not even going to know you any more," she smiled. "But you have my word. I'll not tell a soul, and I'll even protect your Scrooge image so he still won't have a clue."

"Deal. Uh-oh," he said, looking over to where Sam and Elizabeth were just breaking free from a conversation with a young lady. Myles started chuckling before they even reached him and Tara.

Sam's face was utterly bewildered, and Elizabeth was trying and failing to hide a smirk.

"Uh, Myles?" Sam began, a little hesitantly. "Can you think of any reason why Miss… uh, Damien, I think her name was, would think that the fact we're twins would be… uh… 'positively luscious,' I think were her words?"

Tara started to laugh, too, which made Sam blush and look even more disconcerted.

Myles reigned in his chuckle with a bit of difficulty, and attempted to explain. "Lori Damien has been chasing me for about five years now. Fortunately, this is the only time I ever see her, and she's the main reason my home phone is unlisted. I'm sure she was utterly devastated to find that I'm engaged, so to discover that I have a twin…"

Sam didn't look much relieved. "Oh."

Tara giggled softly and took his arm. "You're spoken for, too, Sam; so she'll just have to give up."

The relief on his face was evident. "Can I tell her that?"

"Of course," Tara replied, glancing over his shoulder. "In fact, here's your chance right now."

He flinched, then turned to find the petite blonde weaving her way toward them; the girl was positively predatory until she saw Tara's arm firmly linked with Sam's. Myles unconsciously put an arm around Elizabeth's waist and pulled her a bit closer.

"Miss Damien," Myles said cordially, "How very nice to see you again."

The girl's brown eyes danced over him seductively. "Myles. I must say, that was absolutely beautiful tonight; how nice of your grandmother to finally find you a proper accompanist." Her gaze flickered to Elizabeth as if surveying a target. "And then to find that you have a twin brother; my evening is just getting better and better." The practiced smile and seductive gaze had Sam fidgeting a bit, and Tara fuming.

Elizabeth simply smiled. "How nice that you could be here for this performance, Miss Damien. But Margaret didn't 'find' me, and I think that Teresa deserves a medal for enduring all this for so long." When she saw the dark eyes go cold, the psychologist added, "I'm sorry; how rude of me. Dr. Elizabeth Dillingham, Myles' fiancée."

Propriety took over, all except in Lori's eyes. "Of course. How do you do?" She extended a hand. Then a sweetly practiced smile appeared, and they could almost hear the touch of venom in the soft voice. "Dillingham… from the Cambridge family, yes? Oh, that's right; you're the lady who was being targeted by that _awful_ Black Rose killer."

Elizabeth felt Myles stir next to her, and saw Tara start to take a step, but she stilled them both with a slight motion of her hand. She knew exactly where Miss Damien was going with this, and she wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. "That's right," she replied smoothly.

"How dreadful. All those poor girls…" Now Lori looked Elizabeth straight in the eye, and the false sympathy was enough that it should have choked her on the spot. "How _must_ it feel to know that eight people are dead because of you?"

Sam was ready to strangle her as well at this point, but the psychologist stopped him also. She took a single step forward and faced Lori alone. Her voice lowered to almost a whisper, but it developed the same syrupy quality she was getting form the socialite. "You should be grateful, Lori. His victims were random, except for their initials. My _goodness_," she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her, "if Evan Graham hadn't discovered my friendship with Rachel DeLacy, he could have just as easily chosen _you_ as victim number eight. Since we share the same last initial."

Now she narrowed the gap even further, watching the younger woman's face pale. "I didn't cause those deaths. Those lives were taken by a killer's choice, not mine. And dragging up the past isn't going to snag you a gentleman you've been chasing in vain for five years. So you may as well give it up." Her voice stayed even, but there was no doubt that she meant every word.

Lori's eyes narrowed, even as she kept up the polished mask. "Well, then," she replied sweetly, "perhaps I can charm the newest Leland brother to enchant this soirée." She turned toward Sam, only to find Tara between them.

"Tara Williams," the petite agent said by way of introduction. "And I think you'll find I'm not nearly as refined as the rest of the group here. Sam's spoken for as well, so you can pull in your manicured claws, Miss Kitten."

Lori's gaze flickered to Sam, but he simply put his arms around Tara from behind and shrugged, a twinkle forming in his eye all the same. "Sorry, Miss Damien," he said politely, "I saw her first."

The brown eyes blazed, but she did make one last attempt. "Well, perhaps you simply need an opportunity to sample 'the field' as it were, Mr. Leland. I don't see a ring on Miss Williams' finger. There's always hope." The smile she turned on him was designed to melt even the most dedicated man.

"Don't think so," Sam replied with a grin, dropping the "society face," "Somehow, I don't think you could beat her at Super MarioKart, and that's the only criteria I'm interested in."

Lori's face crumpled in confusion, and Sam's grin just got wider. "You mean, you don't know the story of the long-lost Leland twin who's off his rocker and totally caught up in a world of video games?" He cast a mock-glare at his twin. "Myles, I'm hurt."

Myles shrugged. "Hey, Grandmother wanted it kept a secret from her society crowd; I just obliged." But he grinned at the look of horror on Lori's face. "You're just _not_ having such a good evening after all, are you Lori? It was very nice to see you again, but if you'll excuse us, I think we've had enough frivolity for one evening."

* * *

x

* * *

As they gathered their coats and made their way over toward Reginald to say goodbye, Margaret Effingham approached the foursome. "Myles, may I have a word with you? In private?" 

Her eyes were unreadable, and Myles exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, then with Sam. He got a pair of identical shrugs in response.

"I suppose that would be all right," he said, a bit warily. "Sweetheart, guys, I guess I'll meet you in a few minutes."

His grandmother led him into the room where earlier she'd had the conversation with her husband. She motioned Myles into a chair, and sat down on the velvet loveseat nearby; only the deep burgundy color and the dark walnut finish kept the piece from being overly pretentious.

He watched her carefully, looking for any minute signs of what she was thinking; _Ten-plus years of surveillance and behavioral training, and I still can't figure her out_, he thought, _This could be anything from a guilt trip to an apology, neither of which is really her style._ After a moment, he simply gave up and sat back, folding his hands in his lap. _Or, it could be an opportunity to say something I've wanted to say for years…_

Margaret toyed with the fringe on a gold pillow for a moment, then looked up at him. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" she asked. "I mean, I can understand when you were a teenager… but all these years…"

Myles met her eyes solemnly. "I could ask you the same thing, Grandmother," he replied. "You had to have known that Teresa, at the very least, was miserable. Yet you insisted, year after year, and made her a laughingstock to your 'circle.' It was cruel."

She blinked, taken aback by his candor; then her eyes dropped. "I realize that now. And I certainly didn't realize what I was doing to you, either. The fact that you always showed up without a word made me think that you found some peace in it during the rest of the year. I never knew that this was the only time your own violin ever came out of its case." Now she looked up at him again, and the polished mask was gone. "Can you forgive me?"

He gazed at her for a long time. _The opportunity presents itself… _His voice was soft but firm when he finally spoke. "I can; but I think there's someone else to whom you owe an apology far greater than this one."

She looked confused. "I've already apologized to Teresa."

"I'm not talking about Aunt Teresa, Grandmother." Now he stood, gearing up for what he needed to say. "Even with as much as you put me through, at least you acknowledged my existence. Sam wasn't so lucky."

Her eyes widened, but he didn't give her a chance to comment. "To have gone through what he did was bad enough; but to have his family reject him so completely when he got home was _inexcusable_. Mom and Dad at least _tried_; even Grandfather tried. But not you; you turned your back on him and pretended he never was. Even tonight; if he hadn't pushed the issue, and simply blended in with your other guests, you'd have never even acknowledged that he was here." His blue-grey eyes bored through her. "Would you?"

"I—" Her voice caught in her throat. She paused for a moment, then rose gracefully to her feet, meeting his gaze. "I don't suppose I would have. I do owe him an apology as well, then. It does sound as if he's doing well now."

"He's been through a lot this year, Grandmother. He's got a ways to go. But he'll do better if he has a little support. And I don't just mean by inviting him to your parties."

She nodded, and took him by the arm. "Then I guess I'd best go make an apology, and deliver you to your grandfather. He has something for you, I'm sure you know by now. And, by the way, your performance tonight was wonderful. I hope that perhaps you and Elizabeth would be willing to do it again next year?" She raised a hand at his reaction. "There's time enough to discuss it later. It's not a demand this time; merely an invitation."

He nodded, and kissed her cheek. "I'll ask her. That's all I can promise."

* * *

x_

* * *

Leland Residence, Columbia Heights _

_Saturday, 11 p.m._

"What did you say to her?" Sam demanded as he stepped into the house after taking Tara home.

Myles turned from thumbing through the mail on the kitchen counter. "What did I say to whom?"

His twin perched on a stool. "Grandmother, that's who, and you know it. What did you say to her?" He leaned his arms on the counter and bored a gaze at Myles. "She was as contrite and apologetic as I've ever seen her, and that's saying a _lot_, considering. I assume she called you into private conference to sing your praises?"

The Harvard grad shrugged. "Actually, she wanted to know why I'd never said anything."

Sam laughed. "I don't believe this; the three of you— no, four, if you count Aunt Teresa— waltzing around each other all these years, and all you had to do was show a little backbone and tell her off. So, will you be performing next year?"

Myles shrugged again. "I honestly don't know, Sam. She invited us, made sure I knew it was simply an _invitation_ this time, but after all these years… I don't know yet. I'll have to talk it over with Elizabeth."

Sam ran his hand over the Stradivarius case, which was lying on the counter. "Bet this one won't stay locked in the cabinet, huh? That was… tonight… I mean, you've tried to describe the tone of the Strad to me, but nothing comes close to actually hearing it…"

The agent sat down on the other stool and leaned on the counter as well, absently staring at the violin. "No, I suspect that this will get used. If for no other reason than Grandfather expects it, and Elizabeth likely won't let me walk away from it after tonight."

"Right," Sam grinned. "And that gleam in your eye has absolutely _nothing_ to do with it."

Myles looked up at him, and knew it was useless. "You think I can get a good deal on a piano before Christmas? And find a place here for it?"

Sam smiled. "Only want to move it once, do you? You, dear twin, have a bit of a lazy streak. But I think you can probably fit a spinet in the dining room. I'm sure you'd rather surprise her with a baby grand, but I don't think you have quite that much room." He stood and stretched. "We can go look for one tomorrow, if you'd like. Well, I gotta get to bed.. you know early bird gets the worm... all that jazz."

"Good night, then."

As Sam headed for the guest room, he paused at the top of the stairs, looking back at his brother and wondering if perhaps he should have shared something that Margaret had said while they were talking. _No,_ he thought after a moment. _I explained their reasoning to her. No sense in getting him worked up. She wouldn't…_

He shrugged and headed for his room.


	9. Ch 4: Terror by Night and Day

**Chapter 4: Terror by Night… and Day**

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Saturday "night," 12:30 am

* * *

_

She'd dropped off almost immediately; the long day, and the exciting evening taking their tolls. Still, she wasn't expecting…

"_Sure, Bobby. I'm surprised Amy didn't pick up the call— she must have her hands full. I only have one patient left today anyway. It's a first-time consult, so I should be done by the time you get here." She glanced over her shoulder as a man walked into her office. "Have a seat, Mr. Evans. I'll be right with you." Turning back to the phone, she continued, "Is there a problem?"_

_The sensation of cold steel against her neck stopped her short, and the sound of a hammerlock being pulled back froze her heart. A hand reached over her shoulder for the phone, and a quiet voice said, "No problem at all, Dr. Dillingham." …_

…_She endured Graham's touch dispassionately, giving him no reaction at all. She was fervently glad, however, that Graham's right hand was not visible from the camera._

_He stopped abruptly in disgust and glared at her. "I'd thought you'd be much sweeter. I think I'll actually be doing Agent Leland a favor by freeing him of you." _

"_You don't know a thing about Agent Leland." She glared right back at him. "Let's just leave him out of this."_

"_You know, you remind me of the late Mrs. Graham. Such a tragedy. She too, had submission problems; too free-spirited, like yourself. Free spirits require… taming," he said, giving her another assessing look. "But those other girls, they were innocent. You caused their deaths…"_

"_No!" It came out with every ounce of certainty she'd gained earlier when she battled with this very thought. "I caused none of this. This is your doing, Evan, not mine."_

_He smiled again, and it unnerved her that none of this seemed to be affecting him at all. "So it is. And all of it is for you, dear doctor. Every step I've taken, every life snuffed out, has been for you alone. Eight lives, four cities, a trail of blood spanning your whole life…" His voice dropped to a whisper again, and his lips brushed her left cheek. "Elizabeth."_

_She shuddered at his use of her given name, and her loathing for him and the whole situation grew with each word he uttered next._

"_That's all he ever calls you, isn't it? Your precious G-man. An elegant name, I must admit. So refined, so genteel…and so very sensual across the lips. E-liz-a-beth." He pulled back to stare deep into her eyes, and smiled as her face paled a shade or two. "Tell me, does he whisper it in your ear when you tremble beneath him? Does he gasp it in the heat of climax? Is it on his lips when—" …_

…"_You can't possibly think I'd give you the satisfaction of reacting at all to you. I'd rather have you beat me senseless."_

"_As you wish." His hand swung again, a fist this time, smashing across her jaw. Stars exploded across her vision, and a coppery taste spread over her lips and tongue. Still she made no sound, and he grabbed her chin roughly, leaning in until his lips were just a half-inch away, perpendicular to hers._

"_You see, dear doctor," he hissed, his voice the travesty of a caress, "I observed quite a number of, shall we say, very interesting practices during my eight years in prison. Wonderful little scientific discoveries that I couldn't wait to try out on you. One of them involved a very new, very young inmate— a rather sought-after commodity in prison, given the lack of companionship." He leaned closer, the words imprinting on her cheek. "The discovery was this: no matter how much you loathe it, if you are not given the opportunity to escape, and if your 'benefactor' is very patient, your own body will betray you into reacting to… certain stimuli."_

_Her eyes widened in shock; then a deep, bone-shaking tremble took her. He felt it, and his smile grew sadistically delighted again. "It doesn't matter if you are in pain, or how much you hate me. You will gasp as the pleasure takes you, all the while hating yourself for it, and you will scream. I will take everything that you are, I will totally destroy you. You will beg me to kill you, and then you will die. It is simply a matter of time, my beautiful creature. And we have all the time in the world."_

_His hand slipped under her shirt again, in the back this time, running his fingers over her skin and pausing over the clasp on her bra. "All the time in the world. And your precious G-man will be too late. But your destruction will be preserved on film forever." …_

… _Myles slammed back against the wall and slumped to the floor, his gun spinning across the floor to just inches from her feet._

"_Nooooo!" Her hands jerked against the handcuffs again, and the metal bit into her wrists, but she couldn't feel it. Felt nothing but the agonizing wrench in her heart as she willed him to move, to breathe, anything to let her know it was all a nightmare._

_Evan Graham walked calmly back over to the desk and picked up the needle again. "So romantic," he sighed dramatically. "You can watch each other bleed to death." …_

_He walked over to the doorway, kicked Jack's now motionless body out into the tunnel, then barred the door and turned around. With a smile, he returned and nudged Myles with his foot. "Unfortunately for Agent Leland, here," he mused, "he forgot to include a blood pack with that body armor he's wearing." A flash of movement too fast for sight, a deafening roar, and she closed her eyes against the sight._

_Graham returned to her side. "That's two more deaths to your name," he whispered. "Now, where were we?"…._

Elizabeth awoke with a scream, clutching at the bedclothes and shaking like a leaf. As soon as she realized where she was, the scream stopped, but the shaking wouldn't. She reached for the phone…

_No,_ she thought fiercely. _He's fine. It was just a dream, brought on by that horrible woman tonight. I can do this; I can do it on my own._

She got up, putting on her robe and purposely not turning on the light as she walked downstairs to the kitchen. After making herself a cup of tea, she sat down at her kitchen island and tried to stop shaking. After a few minutes, though, she realized that it wasn't working. Still stubbornly refusing to call Myles, she laid her head on her arms and cried the nightmare out.

* * *

&

* * *

_Sutherland Psychiatric Clinic, MacPherson Square_

_Monday, November 29th_

_8 a.m._

"I can't believe I let that woman get to me that way."

"Liz." Daniel Sutherland folded his hands behind his graying hair and leaned back in his chair. "It's not a matter of letting someone 'get to you.' That issue of blaming yourself for Graham's other victims has been a difficult one to overcome. It only makes sense that when some ignorant person makes a comment like that, it's going to crawl back out of your psyche."

"I suppose," Elizabeth agreed reluctantly.

"May I ask you something, though?" Wise eyes looked at her through the horn-rimmed glasses. "Why didn't you call Myles when you woke up? I thought the two of you had agreed that you were in this together. He's not going to thank you for it when he finds out."

She thought back to a comment she'd made to Myles shortly after the ordeal was over: _I have to be strong on my own before I can be strong with you._ "I don't know, Dan," she replied. "Or maybe I do. I just felt like I needed to handle it on my own. He had to work all day yesterday, anyway, and I didn't want to distract him…" She trailed off as her partner gave her a knowing look. "I know, I know; I just hate having this haunting our lives. I thought, if I could take care of this without having to lean on him, I'd be one step closer to finally being free of Graham."

"If I recall a few of the sessions Myles joined you for, he's fought a few nightmares of his own," the older man replied. "It's not only you who needs to free yourself from Evan Graham; it's both of you."

Elizabeth sighed. "I know, Dan. It's just…"

"Difficult for you, who have been independent so much of your life, to suddenly feel that you're _having_ to lean on someone else emotionally, no matter how deeply you may care for him and _want_ to share every part of your life with him." The psychologist motioned her back to a chair, from where she'd been pacing in front of his desk. "That's something you've been adjusting to ever since the two of you started dating; only now, it's dealing with a severe negative experience, instead of just everyday stuff." Now Sutherland leaned forward in his chair, pinning her with his gaze. "Make up your mind, Elizabeth; either the two of you are in this together, completely, or you'd best rethink that ring on your finger and the commitment you're making."

She drew back as if he'd slapped her. Then her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the solitaire on her hand. She hadn't thought of this as part of the commitment they shared; yet this was no different than the decision she'd had to make after Myles' brush with death nearly nine months previous. Graham's nightmare really wasn't so much different from the Ebola virus that had almost separated them, only this time it was her fighting the venom. She'd stayed; and she knew that Myles would now, _was_ _now_, doing the same thing for her.

Sutherland watched her face; when she looked up at him again, he nodded. "Not feeling quite so stubborn anymore, Dr. Dillingham?" he smiled.

She grinned back at him, a bit embarrassed now. "You just love ramming me back against my own walls, don't you, Dan?"

He shrugged. "Whatever gets the point to sink in. Now, why don't you grab a cup of coffee before your first patient, and clear your head. You can settle things with Myles this evening."

She nodded, and rose to go back to her own office. Then a soft sound behind her made her turn back. Dan was staring at an open section of the _Washington Post_, and his expression was one of slight shock and a bit of concern. "Liz?"

"What is it, Dan?" She walked over to his desk, noticing that he'd randomly opened the paper to the "Announcements" section.

His voice was hesitant. "Didn't you tell me that you and Myles had decided against announcing your engagement because you didn't want Graham getting wind of it?"

"That's right," she replied warily. "Why?"

He pointed to a spot on the page. "Because apparently someone didn't get the message."

Elizabeth looked to where he was pointing, and gasped. _Leland/Dillingham_ read across the column, with a brief announcement below it. "Who…?"

Just then, a young man knocked on Dan's open door. "Excuse me, is there a Dr. Elizabeth Dillingham here?"

She turned. "I'm Dr. Dillingham."

"Delivery for you, ma'am." He held out a narrow white box.

She took it from him, a sick feeling starting in the pit of her stomach. Daniel Sutherland thanked the young man and gave him a dollar tip, then turned back to where Elizabeth was staring at the box, her face pale.

"May as well get it over with, Liz," he said gently. "It may not be what you think."

The look on her face said she knew he didn't believe that any more than she did. But she opened the box anyway, squaring her shoulders as she did.

Inside was a single rose; the deepest burgundy readily available. The note was short and to the point.

_Ah, Galahad and his lady fair – ain't love grand?_

_

* * *

& _

* * *

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Monday, November 29th _

_8:00 am_

"Myles!" Sam's voice penetrated the Bullpen before he even entered.

Heads popped up all over, and Levi got Sue's attention as well. Myles looked up at his brother. "What? You sound like there's a 5-alarm fire somewhere."

"There may as well be." Sam's face held a rare scowl. He glanced over to where Tara was engrossed in something on her computer. "You got a minute?"

"Sam, unless it's something that can be considered official business, I really don't at this point… can't it wait?"

Sam glanced at the board, which had several photos of jewelry on it, along with the hierarchy of the counterfeiting ring they were closing in on. "Actually, I think perhaps it _can_ be considered official business."

Now Jack came over as well. "What's up, Sam?"

It was obvious that Sam hadn't really intended to be the center of everyone's attention, but now that he'd made his entrance, he was stuck. "Uh…" he glanced at Tara again, who had now joined the rest of the group. Sam sighed. "Okay, so much for a surprise at Christmas, but it's not an issue anymore."

He pulled a box out of his pocket, opened it and laid it on Myles' desk. Three female gasps echoed briefly at the sight of the ruby necklace and earrings.

"Wow," Lucy breathed, nudging Tara with her elbow. "You're sure he's completely spoken for?"

Tara grinned, shaking her head. "Arguing with him does no good. And yes," she added playfully, "he's spoken for."

Sam was still scowling. "Gregory's in town, helping me with the real estate deal on the DeLacy house; I showed him these this morning, and he said they're fakes! Man, you just cannot trust _anyone_!"

It took ten minutes to get the pertinent information out of him, amongst the ranting, but finally Sam calmed down enough to accept the coffee Tara brought over. "Sorry, Lady MarioKart," he said with a shrug, " I guess you'll just have to show me your wish list instead."

She smiled. "Why don't you simply come with me for Christmas this year? I know my family would love you, and I've got a whole gang of nephews who need a little humbling in the video game department. That would be the best present of all."

A devious grin lit up his face. "Always enjoy putting a little humility into the younger sect. But I did promise Mom and Dad I'd be at Gram's house on the Cape this year." He thought for a minute. "Hey, how about we hit _both_ places? I've got the jet; we can do it easy!"

She stared at him. "How is it you can make the simplest ideas suddenly become the greatest-sounding adventures?"

"Years of practice, pretty lady," he grinned. "Years of practice."

Suddenly, his face crumpled in a bit of panic. "Oh, no," he said, "I just thought of something. Your opals… Liz's emeralds… are they fakes, too?"

Myles had overheard his statement, and approached them. "I don't know about the opals, but you can be pretty sure Elizabeth's set isn't. She knows her gems pretty well, and I think she'd have spotted a counterfeit."

"Here." Tara reached under the collar of her turtleneck and pulled out the opal necklace. At Sam's raised brow, she shrugged. "I wanted to wear it, but didn't want to look like I was showing off. So sue me."

"You'd lose." He retorted without hesitation, a grin stealing away his worry for a moment. He shook a finger at her. "You're not fooling me for one minute, Miss Tara. You're starting to get comfortable with the 'trappings,' as you so eloquently described them. I can spoil you undeterred now."

Myles chuckled at the pair of them and motioned to Jack, who had just called up one of the Bureau's gem experts. "Can we set my poor twin's mind at ease, here?"

"Shouldn't be a problem. Brenda's on her way up."

Five minutes later, the lady handed Tara back her necklace. "You were fortunate, Mr. Leland," she said, a slight Western twang to her voice. "Only the ruby set turned out to be counterfeit."

Sam breathed a huge sigh of relief. "You all better get these guys, pronto," he said. "I have more shopping to do before Christmas."

There were laughs all around at that, and most of the team went back to work. Sam gave Tara a quick kiss, then walked back over to his brother's desk. "Oh," he said, a bit hesitantly, "there was one other thing. I don't suppose you've seen the morning paper yet? The _Post _or the _Globe_?"

Myles shook his head. "Wasn't time this morning, and I actually don't see _The Boston Globe_ that often. Why?"

"Uh…" The hesitation in Sam's voice made Myles look up, and Sam swallowed a bit. "I'm sorry; I should have told you Saturday night after we got back from Grand Maggie's, but I didn't think she'd really do it, I tried to explain to her, but you know Grans—"

"Sam, just _tell_ me—"

At that moment, an aide entered the Bullpen, carrying a slim white box. "Agent Leland?" she said.

"Yes?" He looked puzzled. "What's this?"

"It just arrived downstairs for you." She placed it on his desk, then walked back out.

Sam stared at it for a moment as well, then placed a hand over it. "Myles, I don't think—"

"Sam, either spit out what you're trying to say, or let me get back to work." Myles didn't give him a chance to reply, but reached over and slid the box out from under his grasp.

Sam hurriedly pulled two sections of folded newspaper out of his back pocket. But he was too late; his twin had already opened the box.

"What the—?" A deep red rose peeked out from the folds of tissue. He pulled the card out and stared at it.

Sam watched his brother's jaw tense until it had to be causing either intense pain or certainly damage to his teeth. He smoothed the two pieces of newsprint out in front of Myles, his voice quiet.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, bro. Maggie decided to do something 'nice' for you two, since she realized she hadn't seen your engagement announced in the paper. I tried to tell her why, but she apparently didn't listen." His eyes dropped for a moment, then he looked up again. "That's from Graham, isn't it?"

* * *

&

* * *

_Leland Residence, Columbia Heights_

_Monday, November 29th_

_8 pm_

"I know she meant well," Elizabeth sighed as she brought two glasses of wine over to the sofa. "I just really wish she'd listened to Sam."

It had been a long afternoon; there had only been time for a brief phone call earlier, but he'd asked her to meet him at his house that evening. She was confused by his request that she bring the box from Graham with her, but she'd done as he'd asked.

The most surprising part of the evening had come when he opened the door; they'd both smiled to discover that the same thought had come to each of them. The peace roses they'd exchanged had done more to bring a bit of closure to the day than any discussion could, at least as a start. Now, with dinner finished and the kitchen clean, they settled down to talk.

Myles stretched out an arm as she snuggled next to him, pulling her close. "Unfortunately, Grandmother has her own ideas, and it takes a great deal to sway her from them, no matter how good a reason there may be. I'm glad Dan was there when the box showed up at your office, though."

"And I'm glad you weren't by yourself, either." Her eyes dropped, and her voice went very soft. "I'm so sorry that I didn't call you Saturday night. I know we promised to stay in this together; I just—"

He lifted her chin until she looked into his eyes. "Elizabeth, I'm not going to fault you for wanting to fight it on your own. I've been tempted to do the same thing several times. We've both got a lot of pride and stubbornness to overcome, at least with each other." He stroked her cheek, brushing at a stray tear wandering down her soft skin.

"But," he continued, "Dan Sutherland was dead-on when he told us that we _have_ to overcome this together. If we don't, it could always be there between us; _what's she thinking? Is this bringing back bad memories? Am I reminding him, just by being here?_ I don't want Evan Graham haunting us for the rest of our lives."

Elizabeth gave him a long gaze before she sighed again, resting her cheek against his chest. "I know; and I don't either. It's just not easy to bare your soul when it's already ripped up." Now she looked up at him again, placing a hand on his cheek. "But please know that my instinct to pull inside myself has _nothing_ to do with you. I love you with all my heart, and I suppose a lot of my pulling away has more to do with not wanting to drag you down with me."

"So let me lift you up instead." In a decided move, he rose from the couch, drawing her with him, and led her over to the fireplace, where two slim white boxes rested on the hearth.

Myles knelt at the hearth, pulling back the fire screen. He turned to Elizabeth and handed her one of the boxes. "Time to put these where they belong," he said firmly.

She smiled brightly. "Absolutely." Hands joined, they tossed the boxes into the fire together. As they watched the flames consume the nightmare, she leaned against his shoulder. "You know," she said softly, "I seem to remember reading somewhere that roses produce the most purifying flame."

"Then we'll take every attempt of his to unnerve us and turn it into another step of purifying our lives from him, permanently." He stood and caught her in his arms, then reached over and took the stereo remote from the mantel. A moment later, the strains of an old ballad filled the room.

Elizabeth smiled up at him. "You're going to have me convinced that you're not really a classical music purist," she teased. "You keep pulling up all these romantic ballads from ages ago."

Myles stroked her cheeks before kissing her gently. "I feel secure that my secrets are safe with you, love." He pulled her close as the music wrapped around them:

_There's a light, behind your eyes. _

_I see it shining, it only fades when you cry _

_There's a heart that beats so strong; _

_I feel it dying when the night time lasts too long _

_Now you and I have lived our century _

_And all I can say is what you offered to me_

_Please don't be scared, _'_cause I've stood there, too; _

_Between survival and the right thing to do. _

'_Cause only the strong admit their fears, _

_And if you really need me, __I'll always be here. _

_The parties and the lights __fade to memories in the still of the night. _

_And you wonder in your mind __if there's nothing left to show for all the time, _

'_Cause feeling pain is a hard way to know you're still alive, _

_but someday someone will make you glad you survived _

_Please don't be scared, _'_cause I've stood there, too; _

_Between survival and the right thing to do. _

'_Cause only the strong admit their fears, _

_And if you really need me, __I'll always be here.

* * *

_

_(Please Don't Be Scared- Barry Manilow)_


	10. Ch 5: A Home for the Holidays

**Chapter 5: A Home for the Holidays

* * *

**

_The late Rachel DeLacy's House, Georgetown_

_Monday, December 20th (three weeks later)_

_10 a.m._

Sam leaned back in the kitchen chair and smiled as he watched Connor DeLacy's face; the young man seemed to be in shock as he looked at the figure on the real estate offer.

"Mr. Leland," Connor managed after a moment, "this figure… this can't be right."

"Yes, it can," Sam replied firmly. "I understand why you felt you had to list it as low as you did, but I don't believe that you should be penalized for what Evan Graham did. Believe me, there are enough lives currently screwed up because of him; I don't want you to be on that list as well."

Connor looked up. "But…this figure…"

"Is the appraised value of the house plus ten percent," Sam said. "And my financial advisor informs me that it is_ not_ an unreasonable offer for a house of this vintage in excellent condition, in this neighborhood. I don't feel that I'm being overly generous, Connor," he continued with a smile. "It's a sound offer, one I'm more than willing to make obviously, or we wouldn't be here."

"I realize that," the young man replied. "I just hope this isn't because of Miss Dillingham—"

Sam cut him off. "My future sister-in-law has nothing to do with this. Contrary to popular belief, when I work a business deal, it's strictly business. Now, she did tell me that you were having a difficult time selling your mother's house, but the rest of the deal is my own doing. I like the house, I like the neighborhood, and I'm making an offer. Now it's simply up to you to accept it."

Connor gazed at him for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Leland. I'll gladly accept your offer."

Sam wrinkled his nose a bit. "It's just Sam, okay? 'Mr. Leland' is my stuffed-shirt twin. I'll have a cashier's check for you by the end of the day, then."

Connor matched Sam's grin and chuckled a bit as they shook hands. "It's a deal."

* * *

_Private Cessna Citation 2 Jet_

_College Park Airport, Washington DC_

_11 am_

"Tara, can you meet me at Liz's house later tonight? Say around seven? Will that work with your schedule today?" Sam had the cell to his ear as the jet engines wound up.

"Sure, it should," Tara replied. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Airport." He smiled, as he could almost hear her brows raise. "Just a quick appointment that came up last minute, is all. I'll be back by five, and you can have your daily dose of MarioKart."

"Ok."

"Catch you later, Miss Ma'am." He hung up to the sound of her laughter, and dialed a second number. "Gregory? Meet me over at the house, okay? I'll be there in a couple hours. Jake's just winding her up now. We're fifth for takeoff."

* * *

_Sam Leland's Residence, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts_

_1 p.m._

He looked around the house; nothing really jumped out at him as screaming "take me with you." After a few minutes, Sam leaned against the white banister and folded his arms across his chest while Glorfindel wound his way around the tall figure's ankles.

"You seem pensive, Samuel." Gregory's voice slid into his thoughts. "More so than I would expect you to be after a successful venture."

Sam sighed, and propped one elbow on the banister, looking out over the foyer below. He let his gaze drift over the expensive Oriental rug, the polished coat rack and hall table, to the worn scrapes in the marble flooring from years of sliding down the stairs on cookware. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing, Gregory?"

"You asked me that before you made the offer to Mr. DeLacy," the British man replied. "At that time you were ready. What has changed?"

"Nothing, really." Sam shrugged. "It's just...there's a lot of past here. I feel like I'm abandoning it...part of who I am. Is that fair to Tara? To leave me behind and then pick it back up whenever I visit?" Sam looked over to where Gregory stood.

The older man considered his younger charge, and the years they'd spent here. Then, weighing his words carefully, he spoke.

"Samuel, a great deal of who you are _is_ here. But you need to consider that much of that part is also what kept you isolated from your family, and from everyone else around you. Facing Matthews opened a door for you; the question is, what will you do with the opportunity?" He paused to watch Sam's reaction.

There was a long pause in which Sam did nothing. Then, he stood, his shoulders a bit straighter than they had been before. He gave the foyer a final glance, and then spoke in a firm voice. "Put cloths over all the furniture, take all the food in the kitchen and drop it off at the homeless shelter. And Gregory?" Sam squared his jaw. "Call a flooring company, and see if anything can be done about that damaged marble. I'm going to pack my clothes."

Gregory nodded, unable to keep a slight smile from his usually reserved demeanor. "Very good. Do you want to return the realtor's call? He was most anxious to show the home, if you were interested in selling it. But I think most people would understand if you chose otherwise."

Sam stopped mid-step, but didn't turn around. "Call the realtor. Tell him I'm not selling." When he spoke again, his smile was audible. "Then...contact the Boston Boy's Home and tell them we're donating a facility. Give them this address."

He could have sworn he heard a smile in return. "Very good, sir."

* * *

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Monday, 7 p.m._

Tara pulled up at Liz's house just as the psychologist was getting out of her own car.

"Hey, Tara. What's up? Myles said something about Sam and a, quote, 'big to-do' of some sort."

The petite agent shrugged. "I haven't got a clue. He had an appointment this morning, some big secret, then he called me from the airport and said he had something come up last minute and he'd be back by five. I could hear the engines winding up while we were talking. So, for all I know, he could be just getting back from Hong Kong."

Elizabeth laughed. "I think the Orient would take a little longer than five hours, Tara."

Tara apparently hadn't heard her, because she kept going, warming to her topic. "For all we know, he could pull up here in five minutes, jump out of the Jeep and yell, 'Hey, I just bought Japan!' It's bad enough when he's just doing 'something,' but if _he's _using the word 'big,' who _knows_ what could happen?"

Elizabeth was still giggling as she took Tara by the arm. "Come on; let's get a cup of tea while we wait for the new Emperor of Japan to make his entrance."

Just then, Myles pulled into the driveway as well, followed by a familiar Jeep Cherokee. Sam jumped out and bounded over to the ladies before his twin even had his seatbelt off.

"Guess what? I just bought Japan!"

Tara dropped her face into one hand, shaking her head while Elizabeth doubled over laughing. Myles grinned as he walked over, then executed a very proper Oriental bow to his brother. "And do we now start referring to you as 'Your Emperorship'?"

Sam scowled. "You know, if you all aren't going to take me seriously…" Then the familiar grin reappeared, and he started laughing as well.

Elizabeth caught her breath. "Sam, it's just that Tara had said the exact same thing not two minutes ago. Besides, you weren't gone long enough to work up a deal for a whole country."

He drew himself up straight and made a show of looking down his nose at her. "You have _no _idea of my connections." Then he couldn't hold it, and the grin reappeared. "Ok, ok, so spoil my fun with logic."

Myles chuckled at that. "So, don't keep us in suspense; what's this announcement that has even _you_ using the word 'big'?"

They stepped toward Liz's front door, all except Sam. When they turned around to look at him, he leaned back against the Jeep and stuck his hands in his pockets. "How about we all go to my place instead? I doubt Liz was ready for company."

Myles raised a brow. "Uh, Sam… isn't that a bit of a distance for news, no matter _how_ big?"

"Well, bro," Sam grinned cheekily. "I know between me and the Bureau, you're spoiled— cars and all that. But I hope you can at least manage the journey to my house." Thus said, Sam made a show of pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and twirling them in the air, whistling as he jauntily walked across the street, and up the front steps of a white house. He let himself in, and left the door open behind him.

Three sets of eyes stared after him for a long moment.

Finally, Tara said, "Isn't that...?"

Elizabeth nodded mutely. "It's Rachel's house. The sign's gone."

"Well, I guess we know what one of his appointments was today." Myles was the first one to actually move. "Come on. I have a feeling there's more to this than simply a house purchase. We already knew he was planning this."

They walked over to the house, and stepped in to find Sam fiddling with a new coffee maker that sat on the counter. "Decaf or regular?" he mumbled over his shoulder. "And have a seat."

Tara perched on one of the chairs in the kitchen; a small table and four chairs were the only furniture visible. "So, you really did it, huh?"

"Yep. This morning. Signed all the papers and everything. Gregory will be here tomorrow." Sam pushed the filter in, and pressed a button on the coffee maker. After a pause, he gave it another more violent jab and then looked satisfied.

Myles leaned back in his own chair. "So, do you need some help moving all your stuff, or will you be leaving that to the professionals? Or will you simply keep both places?"

"I won't need help, but thanks. Buying all new stuff. Should be delivered by the companies. And...that's the other thing." Sam stopped taking coffee mugs out of the cabinet, his back to the trio. "I'm not keeping the mansion."

Something in his voice made Elizabeth's head snap up. "You decided to sell the mansion, then?" she asked carefully.

"No. I'm not selling it." Sam reached into another cabinet for the sugar, his tone even and measured. "But I'm not keeping it. I'm donating it to the Boston Boy's Home. Gregory has probably already called them."

There was stunned silence for a moment. Myles exchanged a glance with Elizabeth; there was concern in the blue-grey eyes. After getting a similar nod from Tara, the psychologist stood and walked over to Sam.

Placing a hand on his arm, she turned him around to face the group. "That's a big step, Sam." She waited for a reply, not wanting to push one way or the other.

He looked around the room, at Tara, at Elizabeth, and then Myles. "But it's something I needed to do." Though his body didn't move, his eyes were pleading with Myles for _something_, affirmation or reassurance. "I don't need it anymore."

His twin stood and walked over to him. Elizabeth stepped back and gave them a moment together. Myles reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "You're right. You have a whole world of support around you now. You don't have to hide anymore. And I think that donating the house to help someone else is a final slap in the face to Lyle Matthews and his kind. I don't know if everyone else in the family will understand, but we can work on that. Still, that house has a lot of memories..."

"I can visit. I don't think they'll have a problem with that. And thanks." Sam offered a faint smile. "I'm gonna miss it. But not enough to let it ride on my back for the next lifetime." His spirits seemed to lift, and he looked to Tara. "Sorry, Lady. You'll just have to resign yourself to designing a dream house instead."

Tara blinked. "Me? But it's your house..."

"Where are we gonna go on spontaneous vacations if I don't have some secluded mansion to visit?" Sam countered cheerfully, catching his slip. "And I'd rather you like wherever we go, anyway."

Myles and Elizabeth exchanged a discreet smile, noticing a bit of color creeping into Sam's face. Then Elizabeth placed a hand on Tara's shoulder. "I really think you should at least help him out," she said playfully. "After all, do you know of any man who possesses a decent decorating gene?"

"I beg your pardon." Myles looked insulted, but she didn't even let him comment further.

"And I already saw the business card for _your_ decorator in your Rolodex," she quipped. "So don't go trying to pull that over on me."

"Gregory says I can't decorate worth the time it takes to drive to Pier One." Sam added, a bit mournfully. He opened the fridge to get out the coffee creamer, mumbling under his breath. "Like I was just _supposed_ to know that blue and red don't go together like that."

Tara laughed. "Well, then, I suppose I can rescue you from color-clashing. It's the least I can do."

"Cool!" He brought the mugs over to the table and sat down. "So, Liz; what are the limits to wattage I can use around here? I feel a need to brighten this place up for the holidays. Y'know, for the first time, I really feel like celebrating this year."


	11. Ch 6: Tidings of Comfort and Joy

**Chapter 6: Tidings of Comfort and Joy

* * *

**

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Friday, 24 December_

_12 noon_

Elizabeth put the last of the supplies away, then turned to survey her handiwork. _It's been awhile,_ she thought, _but I think it will do nicely. It's certainly been good therapy._

The last month had been interesting, to say the least; while her future brother-in-law had been busy shaking up the local real estate market and getting himself ready for a major step forward, she'd been fighting just to stay steady.

The nightmares had continued for a week; but this time she was true to her word. Unless Myles had been in the middle of an operation, she called. Even if he wasn't available, she'd left a message on his voicemail, and he'd called her back as soon as he could. It hadn't made for a whole lot of sleep for either of them, but it had drawn them closer than she'd ever thought possible. _And I'm glad he finally taught me that little military trick of being able to fall asleep under just about any circumstances, then be alert within ten seconds when needed._

By the time the nightmares tapered off, Elizabeth was deep in racking her brain for an appropriate Christmas present. She'd finished most of the rest of her list; since they were going to spend most of it with his family, she'd purchased a number of small gifts that were considered generally appropriate, since at this point she knew only his parents.

In reality, she was relieved that they would make only a brief appearance at her grandfather's house; she only wished she knew Myles' family well enough to invite Connie along as well. She'd told her sister as much the last time they'd chatted online; but Connie had told her to quit worrying and just enjoy herself.

_It's not like I have to listen to them anyway,_ she'd quipped. _Besides, I have a new friend who is going to rescue me from Christmas Day at the mausoleum, anyway._

Her sister had refused to divulge any further information until after New Year's, and Elizabeth had threatened to call at 12:01 am on January first. They'd laughed and chatted for about two hours— the conversation had been wonderful therapy as well.

But it still left her at a loss for a Christmas present for Myles; she had one small gift in mind, but since it was going to be their first Christmas together, she wanted something a little "grander" as well. Then, Sam had given her a wonderful idea one evening, while she peppered him with questions. And while she could have simply purchased it, she had decided to turn it into therapy as well. Sam had a friend who had done the design work, and she had finished it herself.

Now, she placed a fingertip against the surface, where it wouldn't show, and checked to see if it was completely dry. The process had been a little more difficult this time, since she was wearing latex gloves that would leave behind no clues, but it had been wonderful to get back into it.

_Now I just have to get it over to his house before he gets home and we have to leave for the airport._ As she closed the supply cabinet, she heard the doorbell ring upstairs. Double-checking to make sure the last piece was right where she could find it when she came back, she headed up the stairs.

* * *

"Hey, neighbor." Sam leaned against her porch railing, grinning broadly against the light snow that was falling down. "Looks to be a white Christmas after all, huh?" His arms were filled with what appeared to be several boxes of cookies or other edibles.

Elizabeth returned the smile. "Come on in, Sam. You look like a man on a mission. What's all this?"

"Little neighborly gesture," he shrugged. "Just working my way around the block. That's what you're supposed to do, right?"

She laughed softly at the earnestness in his eyes. "Well, it's not required, but it's certainly a nice thing to do to establish yourself in the neighborhood. Did you make all this?"

He chuckled, the blond hair dipping into his eyes as he shook his head. "Are you kidding? As much fun as I think it would be, the only thing Gregory allows me to touch in the kitchen is the coffeemaker. And he had to 'certify' me on that."

Elizabeth gave him a playful look. "I guess you'll just have to charm Tara into letting you cook, once you get around to marrying her."

She'd expected the bright blue eyes, the greatest difference in the twins, to widen in shock or embarrassment at her teasing. Instead, Sam set his packages down on her kitchen counter, then leaned against the island and gave her rather a solemn look.

"What would you say if I told you I'd thought about proposing to her tonight— Christmas Eve?"

Her breath drew in fast, but she tried to keep her face from showing it. "I… Sam, that's wonderful."

"Uh-huh." He nailed her with that azure gaze again. "Come on, Liz; you think I can't read shrink-speak after all this time?" Now he smiled slightly. "Don't worry; I said I'd _thought_ about it, not that I was going to actually _do _it."

The psychologist smiled at him. "I didn't mean to imply it was a _bad _idea, Sam. It's just that—"

"I've made enough changes in my life recently to choke an elf, and I need to take a breath and let myself adjust this far before I start planning a commitment of that magnitude." He rattled it off, folding his arms across his chest. "How'd I do?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Okay, okay. Why do you even bother with a therapist any more? You already know all the answers."

That totally open blue gaze struck her once more. "When I know all the answers, _then_ I'll put that ring on Tara's finger." Then the grin resurfaced, and he was all Sam again. "Sooo, how'd the big project turn out? Do I get a preview, since I _did_ hook you up with genius designer Antonio?"

Her laugh echoed again. "Antonio, huh? He told me his given name is 'plain, pure-Bronx Tony.' Only you ever call him Antonio."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, with the caliber of work he does, he needed a classier name. Now, let's see what you did with his start."

Five minutes later, he stood back as she added the final touch. "It's a thing of beauty, Liz," he said softly. "Myles is gonna love it."

"Want to help me get it over to his house?" she asked. "I'm not sure where to 'hide' it, though. Maybe the dining room?"

"Hmmm..." Sam kept his voice casual and his stance easy. "How about in the study? That's where he keeps the Strad."

"Good idea." Elizabeth glanced at her watch. "Ooops; we'd better hurry. He said he'd be home by 2, and we have a flight to catch. Everything else is already in the car."

"I still don't understand why you two won't join us on the Citation," Sam commented. "There's plenty of room, and we can fly right into Hyannis. Save you a ninety-minute drive."

"Yes, it would," she replied. "But you all are stopping at Tara's folks' first; you don't need an audience. Plus, we have to stop at my grandfather's place, for as briefly as I can manage without being rude, and then Myles said there was another stop we had to make on the way to your grandmother's house. Some big mystery, apparently, because he's been as closed-mouthed about it as a Nantucket scallop."

Her comment brought a laugh from Sam. "Now, _there's_ a local epithet I haven't heard since I was, like, twelve."

"My grandmother Cortland used to say it," she giggled in reply. "The _normal_ side of the family. I miss her; she's been gone for nearly ten years now. We used to spend summers at their cottage in Falmouth." A far-away look had come into her eyes.

Sam stepped over to her and folded her into a hug. "Well, soon-to-be sis, you're about to re-live a good old-fashioned Cape Cod holiday; the Lelands are known for it. We'll see how well I can pull it off as well." At her raised brows, he shrugged a bit. "Just still a bit awkward with Dad. I think in some ways he still feels guilty, and in others still isn't quite sure what to do with me. It'll come."

Elizabeth hugged him tightly. "I'll tell you a secret, Sam. This is the first Christmas in _years_ I'm truly looking forward to. Let's go collect our respective Special Agents and get started."

* * *

_Delta Flight 604, out of Dulles Airport_

_Friday, 3 p.m._

"You really did all the finish work on my music stand yourself." There was still a touch of awe in the baritone voice as Myles lifted her hand to his lips.

Elizabeth smiled at him. "Why is that so hard to believe? You were right beside me when we ripped out carpet and repainted walls in my bedroom. It's not like it's the first piece of woodwork I've refinished, just the most intricate. Tony did a phenomenal job on the design. And it's proportioned right to be comfortable, isn't it?"

"It's perfect," he murmured against her fingers. They were settled in their first-class seats for the flight to Boston. "I don't mean that I didn't think you could do it. It's just that I don't think I've ever received a gift that someone put so much of themselves into."

She leaned against his shoulder, recalling the look on his face as he'd pulled the cover off the music stand. The hand-carved mahogany, which she had stained and varnished to enhance both the natural beauty of the wood and the delicate design work, had glowed in the soft lamplight of the study.

An intricate music staff, with the opening notes of "Silent Night," swept across the easel portion of the stand, and subtly-carved notes wound their way down the support. Using Sam as a "yardstick," the woodcarver had worked it so that the stand could be adjusted for either a standing or sitting position, without breaking the beauty of the design. A small brass plaque completed the effect: _Let the music speak for itself. Merry Christmas, my love_.

"I'm glad you like it," she whispered, moving her hand up to his cheek. "Sam was very smooth, by the way, suggesting putting it in the study. I didn't have a clue about my piano hiding in the dining room. Although I'm starting to get worried, if we're able to come up with almost the same engraving: 'Let the music speak for itself. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.' But I love it— thank you."

He smiled. "Sam tried to tell me a baby grand wouldn't fit in there. He hasn't been in a music store lately. I swear, I think they have Schroeder-sized ones now."

She laughed, raising the armrest between them and snuggling as close to him as the seatbelt would allow. "Snoopy will be very happy to hear that, I'm sure."

* * *

_Logan Airport, Boston_

_Friday, 4:30 pm_

If there'd been any embarrassment on her part of packing all their stuff together in his carry-on, it vanished as they navigated their way through the busy terminal. They would make the car rental desk in record time.

She carried their collection of gifts in her carry-on; in the interest of potential security checkpoints, the only one she'd wrapped was the small box in her coat pocket. The anticipation of that one gift was enough to have her humming as they threaded their way through the crowd.

When they reached the "famous" kinetic sculptures that marked the terminal entrances, however, a single comment in her ear doused her mood as effectively as a bucket of ice water.

"Isn't that your mother? And Connie?" Myles asked.

Elizabeth looked where he pointed, and bit back a groan. Sure enough, there stood her mother, with an expression of severe distaste on her face. Connie Dillingham stood next to her, obviously uncomfortable about whatever had them here.

As they approached, Connie took a step back out of her mother's sight-line and signed CAREFUL, MOM WET CHICKEN MAKE MAD MORE.

Myles leaned over to murmur in her ear again. "I think I misread something. She said your mother is a chicken?"

She glanced over and caught the twinkle in his eyes; he knew full well what Connie had signed, and was simply trying to lighten the mood.

Elizabeth smiled slightly. "I wish." She stepped forward and gave her mother a brief hug. "Mother. This is certainly a surprise."

HI SISTER, Connie signed. HI M-Y-L-E-S. MERRY CHRISTMAS. Her smile was a touch strained.

"Good heavens, Constance. Do stop flailing your hands around so. We didn't send you to the finest speech therapists in Boston to have you carrying on like some mime on a street corner."

The disdain in Mary Dillingham's voice struck a chord in Myles; he hadn't realized just how right he had been in his comment to Bobby. He visibly bristled, ready to tell the woman a thing or two, until Connie caught his arm. IGNORE MOTHER, she signed, rolling her eyes slightly. ME IGNORE PRACTICE MUCH. ALL O-K. WORSE MAKE NOT ELIZABETH

He smiled in understanding, and deliberately responded to her in ASL. MERRY CHRISTMAS, CONNIE. GOOD I-SEE-YOU AGAIN.

Mary pointedly ignored the exchange until he finished signing. "Myles."

"Mrs. Dillingham," he replied. "It's good to—"

"Elizabeth, what is the meaning of this?" Mary cut him off abruptly, pulling a piece of newspaper out of her purse. "You make a huge issue out of not announcing your engagement, and then I find it in _The Globe_."

The psychologist visibly cringed, but she tried to keep her voice calm. "Mother, believe me, it wasn't our idea."

"Well," her mother huffed, "after all you went on about that Graham person, and now your engagement is splashed all over the news. Next you'll be telling me not to announce a date. You _have_ set a date, haven't you?"

Elizabeth glanced an apology at Myles and Connie. "Excuse us for a minute," she said, signing at the same time. She then took her mother by the arm and led her over to a nearby bench. "Mother…"

Their voices faded from Myles' hearing, and he looked at Connie. BAD DAY? He signed, furrowing his brow in question. He'd picked up the appropriate facial expressions as well, though he sometimes got them confused still.

His future sister-in-law's breath came out in a laugh. MOTHER SAME DAY, she replied. COMPLAIN NO, HAPPY NO. NEWSPAPER MONDAY MOTHER SEE – HER EXPLODE. She watched him laugh at the magnitude of her "explosion." DRIVE AIRPORT WENT HER. ELIZABETH HOME COME HER WAIT NOT. PROTECT YOU, SISTER I COME ALSO. She glanced over at the rather heated discussion taking place, then back at him. O-K. PROTECT YOU-YOU I COME. Her pointing became a bit of a jab for emphasis.

He chuckled in return. THANK YOU.

They chatted for a few minutes more, and she smiled at him. IMPROVE MUCH YOUR SIGN. READY SOON FOR SILENT DINNER YOU.

His eyes widened, and he had to consciously avoid taking a step back. THAT GOOD MY SIGN NOT YET.

She shook her head, reading his body language easily. AFRAID YOU. DEAF NOT SCARY, GIVE GOOD TRY YOU. GOOD PRACTICE.

"Constance!" Mary and Elizabeth had rejoined them, and neither looked particularly happy. Mary turned to Myles, her dark eyes snapping. "Myles, I would much appreciate it if you would _not _encourage my daughter in the continued use of that primitive, archaic sign language of hers. She knows how to speak. Bad enough that Elizabeth coddles her; I would appreciate it if you would not."

He glanced at Elizabeth; the look on her face said _Go for it, love. Give her both barrels._

Myles took a breath; antagonizing the woman further wouldn't help matters, but he felt he needed to speak. "Mrs. Dillingham," he said gently, "I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm learning American Sign Language myself. And contrary to your statement, I find it anything _but_ primitive. It is a complex, very beautiful language, and one day I'll be proud to list it next to the French, Russian and Chinese that I currently can communicate in as well."

Now his voice gained a bit of strength as he pushed a point across. "And, by the way, American Sign Language saved Elizabeth's life a few months back. It, and the manual alphabet, helped her let us know where she was and how to get to her before Evan Graham could do any more damage to her than he did. That, and the lip-reading ability of a deaf colleague of mine. Connie was gracious enough to let me get in a bit of practice, that's all." He smiled at the redhead. "For which I'm grateful."

Mary's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing further. "We'll be headed home, then." She walked away, her heels clicking forcefully on the tile floor.

Connie raised a brow at Elizabeth, who simply shrugged and shook her head. I SORRY I, she signed. this-year i can't go, not after problem with mother.

Her sister nodded. I UNDERSTAND I, she replied. DON'T WORRY. TALK LATER HER-ME. ME HIT MAYBE WITH FRYING PAN. She grinned broadly. OR SILVER TEA SET, GRANDFATHER HOUSE.

The sly comment brought a sharp breath out, and Elizabeth smiled slightly. ENJOY. DETAIL LATER ME WANT. She gave her sister a big hug, then took Myles' arm and said, "Let's find that rental car. We just gained at least two hours' free time on this trip."

* * *

- for those not versed in traditional New England idioms, the ASL translates to "Mom's madder than a wet hen"

* * *

_Cataumet, Massachusetts_

_6:15 p.m._

"Okay, you were right. Edith is a complete doll." Elizabeth waited for him to open the car door for her. "And _you_ are the most delightfully devious person I know. Bobby's never figured it out, huh?"

"Nope." He smiled. "And I'm counting on you and Tara to keep it that way."

NO PROBLEM, she signed. YOUR SECRET SAFE. Then she reached up to touch his cheek. "Although, after this holiday season, do you think you can maintain your 'Scrooge' image?"

Myles sighed dramatically. "It will be a stretch, I'm afraid, but I'll make the sacrifice." He kissed her forehead as she laughed. "Feeling better now? You were positively steaming on the drive down. I didn't bother turning on the defroster."

She swatted at him as he offered a hand to seat her. When they were back on the road, she turned in her seat. "Oh, Mother just really made me mad. She's been after me to get married for so many years, and now that it's finally happening, suddenly I'm eighteen again and can't make any decisions on my own. And all that about the announcement in the paper; you'd think I had stuck a knife in her heart, what little of one she has."

He glanced over at her sharply. "You don't really mean that."

"Yes, I do." At his continued gaze, her eyes dropped and she sighed. "No, I don't; I just watch her with Connie, and think back over all the grief she's given me about every aspect of my life… at least Grandfather focused on just one thing; that I can tune out. Do you know she just about went ballistic when I told her that _we_ had the final say on the magnitude of the guest list? If she had her way, every socialite in the state of Massachusetts would be there."

Myles chuckled. "Between your mother and my grandmother, we'll have to rent out the Kennedy Center for the reception. I think I could talk Sam into springing for it."

She rolled her eyes, though a smile was twitching at her lips. "Oh, no. If I can stand up to my mother, you get to rein in 'Grand Maggie.' You don't want a circus like that any more than I do." She looked up at him. "Do you?"

"Who, me?" He shot her a playful grin, then got serious. "No, sweetheart, I don't," he reassured her, taking her hand. "Besides, it wouldn't exactly help out any future undercover work if we ended up on the cover of _Washington Weekly_. Garrett would have my neck, and likely ship me off to Des Moines."

She laughed. "I hear Iowa is nice. Lot of snow, though."

He gave her a look, and squeezed her hand. "We have plenty of time to find some kind of a compromise as far as the guest list goes. Maybe we can just tell them to prioritize their respective lists. We might be able to whittle it down to five hundred that way."

"How about we just tell them ten apiece? That should keep them completely stressed out, and out of our hair, from now until May."

Myles looked out over the moonlit coastline, chuckling softly. "And she says _I'm _devious."

* * *

_Myles' Grandparents' House_

_Falmouth, Massachusetts_

_7:30 pm_

"Are you sure I can't help you with the dishes, Mrs. Leland?" Elizabeth leaned on the butcher block surface of the kitchen island. After a simple dinner of oyster stew and homemade rolls, the stresses of her family problems were gone, and the psychologist was relaxed. The fact that Myles was standing behind her rubbing her shoulders wasn't hurting, either.

"You're wasting your breath, sweetheart," he said. "I've been offering for years now, and she just doesn't listen."

"And none of that 'Mrs. Leland' nonsense," the old woman added with a smile. "You're going to be part of the family, so it's Gram, or if you're not comfortable with that, Rose will do just fine."

Elizabeth smiled. "I haven't called anyone 'Gram' since my Grandmother Cortland passed away ten years ago. I think I'd like that again."

Rose Leland smiled. "That's right; you're Mary's oldest, aren't you?"

"Don't remind me." The psychologist rolled her eyes. "Today has _not _been the pinnacle of 'family fun' with her."

Myles chuckled, squeezing her shoulders as he explained. "Mary met us at the airport this afternoon, mad as a hornet about the engagement announcement in the paper."

"As if we weren't," Elizabeth added. "It's not like we planned to give Evan Graham an engraved invitation to try to mess with our minds any more." She sighed. "I'm sorry; it's done with, my mother is as mollified as she's going to get, and I promised myself I was going to enjoy this holiday." With a smile, she leaned back against Myles and gave his grandmother a rather surprised look. "By the way; you know my mother?"

Rose smiled, and glanced over at her husband, who was grinning into his _Wall Street Journal_. "Well, I don't know her well, only as Edna's daughter. Your grandmother Cortland and I went to school together, a century ago or so."

"Really? I don't think she ever mentioned it. Oh, wait… she never used the name Leland, but she did talk about a girlhood friend named Rose." The psychologist thought for a minute. "Newman, right? Your maiden name?"

As his grandmother nodded, Myles let out a breath. "Wow. Talk about small world. What are the odds?"

Rose smiled, her eyes twinkling with what could have been mischief. "Oh, I think the two of you have no idea _how_ small. I always wondered if you'd run into each other again."

"Again?" Two voices chorused it together.

The old lady smiled again, set down her dish towel and motioned them toward the living room. "I think the two of you had best come sit down. I have rather a story to refresh you on."

Myles and Elizabeth exchanged a long, puzzled glance, then he took her hand and led her over to the pile of pillows in front of the fireplace, near the tree showcased in the bay window. He settled them both on the floor, then looked at his grandmother. "You've got me guessing, too, Gram. I think I'd remember meeting Elizabeth, no matter how much time had passed."

She smiled again. "Well, let's see; you'd have been about 15, if I remember correctly. You were engrossed in staying competitive in prep school, and you were still trying so hard to reach Sam through all he'd been through. You were pretty distracted that summer."

Elizabeth gasped softly. "That's right. Gram and Granddad Cortland had a summer place down here in Falmouth. We used to spend a few weeks down here when I was a teenager. But I don't remember Myles from then, either."

"No reason you would." Myles Robert Leland I set down his paper and joined the conversation. "You were fairly wrapped up in a group of girls who all hung out together that summer."

"None of us would have noticed much," Rose continued. "Until Myles came home one afternoon soaking wet, clutching a rather bedraggled book with him."

Elizabeth looked at him. "What'd you do, decide to brave the North Atlantic?"

But Myles didn't respond; his eyes had a faraway look in them as he thought back. Then the blue-grey eyes widened in shock as he looked at her. "That was _you_?" As his grandmother nodded, he promptly started laughing.

Elizabeth was completely confused now. "Who was me, and what are you all talking about?"

"Do you want to tell her, Myles?" his grandfather asked.

"I think I'd better," the blond agent chuckled. At her continued gaze, he tried to contain his laughter enough to explain.

"I spent most of that summer with my nose in a book. Between trying to stay ahead for prep school, and the frustration of hitting a brick wall with my twin, reading was an escape. Plus it kept me current on my literature class list. Anyway, even though I spent most of my time reading, I had noticed one girl around the area. I never got a close look at her, but she was tall and slender, with this shoulder-length sway of jet-black hair that glowed like silk in the sun. I was fairly shy back then—"

"_You_?" she teased. "Never."

"You hush," he played back. "So I never spoke to her, never actually approached her. But I made it a point, as much as I could, to be where I could see her, while she was out with her friends. I never knew if she noticed, but apparently it got on her nerves a bit." Now he looked at her directly. "You used to wear your hair shoulder-length, didn't you?"

"Yes." She was still tying to remember, he could tell. "But I think I'd have noticed a tall, blond young man who hung around all the time…" Now she slowed, and her eyes got a bit wider. "No…"

Myles was chuckling again, and both his grandparents were smiling. "There was one place I liked best for reading. In between the houses down here, there's a stream that runs down to the ocean. I don't know if it's still there, but there used to be a small stone footbridge that crossed that stream. I used to sit up on the rail of that bridge, and that's exactly what I was doing one afternoon when this girl was headed to her house."

Now the emerald pools were wide, but not in shock so much as embarrassment. "Oh, no… please tell me this isn't going where I _think _it is."

There was sympathy in his eyes along with the laughter, but he couldn't stop now. "It was her shortest way home; I know, since I'd figured out where she lived, just not which family she was connected to. I guess she'd had enough of me, though, because as she swept by me on the bridge, she stuck out her arm and nailed me right in the shoulder. I went backwards off that railing and right into the stream. She never even stopped, never broke her stride. Ruined a perfectly good copy of _Beowulf_ in the process."

"That wasn't… couldn't have been…" Elizabeth looked up at him, her face scarlet and her eyes pleading. "That was _you_?"

He nodded. "Afraid so, sweetheart." Only her mortified expression kept him from laughing again.

Rose commented then. "Elizabeth, something you should know before you decide to crawl under the Christmas tree, which is what I can tell you want to do, from your expression. Myles may have come home drenched, but he wasn't upset at all. In fact, if I recall correctly, his reaction to all of us was 'she noticed me!' But he never asked if I knew who you were, or whose family you were connected with. And I never volunteered the information."

Now she stood up, and beckoned to her husband. "I think perhaps we'll call it an early evening. Christmas morning comes awfully early around here. I know Sam and his lady friend are still on their way, but we'll see him in the morning. Myles, can you make sure that everyone gets settled? The girls can share the room at the end of the hall, if they'd like. And you and Sam can fight over the other two rooms." She smiled. "Just like you used to. It's going to be wonderful having the _entire_ family together again at last."

"I'll take care of it, Gram." He stood and came to give her a kiss on the cheek. "And thank you for the memory. I'll make sure she doesn't crawl under the tree," he whispered.

Rose laughed softly. "Good night, then. Enjoy the solitude while you can."

* * *

She leaned against the bay window alcove, staring at the reflection of the tree lights, and the moonlit ocean beyond. The flood of memory she'd just experienced had left her reeling, and utterly embarrassed.

The warmth of his presence enveloped her even before he was close enough to touch her. Then that wonderful, completely mesmerizing baritone voice melted into her ear.

"You plan on looking at me ever again?"

The amusement in his voice made her drop her head, even as her own breath escaped in a self-deprecating laugh. Her hand came up to brush across her eyes. "Ask me again in about ten years." She shook her head, unable to repress a smile. "I was a horrible child."

Now his laughter came out, and wrapped around her as tangibly as his arms at her waist. He rested his cheek against her hair. "Somehow I doubt that."

Elizabeth turned in his arms and looked up at him at last. "I am _so_ sorry, Myles. If I'd known—"

"What? That the geeky kid who kept shadowing you that summer would turn up twenty years later? If you could have seen that coming, I wish you'd have filled me in on it."

She laughed again. "I may have ignored you all that summer, but I do remember this: you were _never _'geeky,' my love." She laid her head against his shoulder, looking out the window as she spoke. "That summer… oh, you couldn't have caught me at a _worse_ time. You think Mom's bad with Connie now; she was an absolute tyrant when we were teenagers. And, since I was set on speaking 'Connie's language,' I wasn't exactly on her high list, either. Then we came down to Gram Cortland's, and that group of girls I was hanging out with… well, let's just say I got it from all sides about my 'weird sister.' It wasn't easy to stay supportive."

Myles let his fingers run through the silk strands of her hair. "Seems to me there's _nothing_ easy about adolescence. You had Connie; I had Sam, or what part of him was still accessible at that point."

"That day, when we… uh, collided…" She smiled up at him. "Not only had Lana and her group been on me about Connie, but they'd noticed that there was this guy who always seemed to be hanging out near wherever I was…"

"Ah. You got a double-dose of ribbing that day." He stroked her cheek. "No wonder you let me have it. Didn't stop me, though; I just stayed a little further out of your sight-line after that."

A dark brow rose. "I had wondered where my shadow had disappeared to. Figured I'd scared him off permanently." Now the green eyes dropped, her cheeks coloring again. "There was no excuse for what I did, Myles, no matter what kind of a day I'd had. All I can do now is apologize again, and replace that copy of _Beowulf_."

Myles chuckled. "Already replaced it; but I think I did hold onto that copy for at least a year." He lifted her chin and gazed into the depths of her eyes. " Do you think that's the only off-the-wall incident we're ever going to have in our life together?" He took her face in his hands and brushed his lips across her mouth. "How about my having to get used to finding stockings hanging over the shower rail when I go to take a shower?" Another kiss. "Or getting yelled at because I forgot to tell you I was going out with the guys?"

Elizabeth giggled against his lips. "Dinner burnt? You bet I'll yell." Getting into the game, she returned his kiss with one of her own. "Discovering that the neatnik I was dating now can't seem to find the hamper for his socks?"

"I beg your pardon?" Another gentle kiss, and he pulled back to gaze into her eyes. "Watching as my wife glows more beautifully every day as she's carrying our child."

The green eyes widened, then softened as she kissed him again. "Watching my cool, collected, FBI agent husband fall apart as I go into labor."

"Sharing that first moment with our new baby with you."

She smiled playfully against his mouth. "2:30 am colic when you've just come home from a sting."

He chuckled. "I thought I was the cynic in this family." He kissed her again, realizing he was starting to get a little lost in her. "Watching you teaching our kids how to tie their shoes, or plant a garden."

Elizabeth was starting to feel the same thing. "Walking into the room to find you curled up with a child at each elbow, reading _Green Eggs and Ham_." His kisses were mesmerizing.

"Must cover Seuss before we get to Shakespeare, huh? I can deal." The next kiss fell just beneath her earlobe.

Her hands found their way into his hair. "How about overhearing you inform your daughter's first date that you have the full resources of the FBI at your disposal?" His soft laugh vibrated against her skin.

"Walks in the rain…" His fingertips drifted across her face. "Christmas mornings…"

"Dancing with you after the kids are in bed…"

"Looking back at all the mistakes we made and laughing over them…" He drew back and smiled at her. "Gee, it's been a great life, hasn't it?"

Elizabeth kissed him again. "Glorious. Let's do it all over again."

Until this point they hadn't noticed that his grandmother had switched on the radio before she retired. A song began to wind its way around them, pulling them under each other's spell…

_Time, you found time enough to love_

_And I found love enough to hold you_

_So tonight I'll stir the fire you feel inside_

_Until the flames of love enfold you…_

Her arms circled his neck, pulling him closer, ignoring the subtle warning in her head. He trailed kisses down her face and neck, finding a soft spot on her collarbone that made her gasp softly…

_Layin' beside you, lost in the feeling,_

_So glad you opened my door. Come with me_

_Somewhere in the night we will know_

_Everything lovers can know…_

She explored his face with feather-light kisses, losing herself in the feel of his arms around her, his fingers trailing over her arms, finally weaving with hers and drawing her hand against his chest…

_You're my song, music too magic to end;_

_I'll play you over and over again…_

_Lovin' so warm, movin' so right,_

_Closin' our eyes and feelin' alive,_

_We'll just go on burnin' bright_

_Somewhere in the night… (Somewhere in the Night, _Barry Manilow)

Lost… so completely lost in her scent, the feel of her skin, the heat of her breath across his throat… somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew they were headed out of control, but he couldn't seem to find the way back…

"Don't you two ever quit? Sheesh."

Myles caught his breath, opening his eyes to gaze into a pair of equally stunned emerald pools. He leaned his forehead against Elizabeth's, and breathed, "Bless you, Sam."

She laughed softly and whispered, "Amen."

The couple in the doorway were grinning, but Tara pulled Sam back into the entry for a moment. "Give them a minute, Sam," she whispered. "I think we may have just rescued them."

"But—"

"Besides," she continued, "you just missed a golden opportunity." She pointed to the chandelier over their heads, which was laced with mistletoe.

Sam blinked, then looked back at her, a mischievous smile crossing his face. "How _could_ I have been so dense? Do forgive me, Lady MarioKart; I'm still learning the ropes, here." He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long kiss. "Better?"

"Much." She took his hand and walked back into the living area. "Recovered?" she teased her co-worker and her friend.

Elizabeth gave her a look, but her cheeks were still red. "I suppose. It's about time you two got here."

Tara laughed. "Yes, well, it turned out that my nephews are better at MarioKart than I had thought."

Myles' eyes were wide as he surveyed his twin. "You let a bunch of rug-rats _beat_ you?"

"_No_." Sam's chin went up. "It merely took longer than I anticipated to endow the necessary level of humility. By the way, bro," he grinned, "I warned you about resurrecting all those old tunes. Dangerous stuff, Manilow in particular…"

The Harvard grad shot him a look. "Oh, knock it off. I didn't turn the radio on this time, anyway."

"Uh-huh."

Elizabeth decided a change of subject was in order. "So, are you two jet-lagged, or do you want a cup of tea or something before we work out the sleeping arrangements?"

But Sam obviously wasn't quite ready to give up a teasing opportunity. "You mean, besides the one you two were already working on?" The two glares he got aimed at him had him raising both hands in surrender, laughing. "Okay, okay. I was just kidding."

* * *

"I think we just need to start avoiding music of any kind for awhile." His voice held a great deal of amusement as he held her close. They were standing at the bottom of the stairs. Tara and Sam had already headed to their respective rooms.

Elizabeth snuggled close to him, laughing softly. "We do seem to have a knack for finding all the wrong songs lately." Then her gaze grew serious, yet couldn't hide the surprised wonder he saw there. "I just realized something."

"What?"

She looked up at him. "When's the last time we came _that_ close to getting ourselves in trouble?"

Myles thought for a minute. "I'd have to say…" His eyes widened a bit. "The night I… that night that…"

Elizabeth nodded, smiling. "The night you put your dancing talent, or at least your _feet_, at severe risk by making me tango with you." She stopped the expected protest with a finger at his lips. "Myles… do you understand? There was no flashback this time. Now, it could simply have been because the setting is different, but I don't think so."

"Sounds like the tide of the battle is turning. In our favor." He dropped a kiss into her dark hair. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have a present for you. One I think I should give you now, while we're alone. Especially after this little victory."

She looked up at him in surprise. "You already gave me my present. Big, black, wooden box with a lot of strings attached to it, remember?"

The Harvard grad gave her a look. "If you're going to start abusing me again, I can take it back…"

She laughed. "The piano?"

Myles caught her chin in his hand. "You're just begging to be on the opposing team during tomorrow's inevitable snowball war, aren't you?"

"Where else would I be?" she teased in return. "Actually, love, I have a present for you, too." She stepped out into the entry for a moment, returning with a small box. "You want to come back near the tree?"

He held out his hand to her. "I think we've taken enough chances for one night. Sitting on the stairs seems a safe bet right now."

Her laughter rippled around him again. "Okay." She joined him on the stairs, and held out the box to him. "Merry Christmas, love."

He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a box as well. Handing it to her, he smiled. "Merry Christmas."

They opened the packages together; Elizabeth lifted a delicate silver chain, revealing a beautiful locket. "Myles, this is absolutely gorgeous."

"Open it."

She did so, and gasped. Inside, there was a compartment with a clear glass cover, holding several yellow rose petals with pink edges. On the opposite side, delicate engraved script spelled out _Let peace begin with us_. She shook her head mutely.

He looked at her, a bit puzzled at the tears forming in her eyes. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Her voice broke slightly. "Open yours."

Myles pulled the cover off the square box; inside was what appeared to be a platinum pocket-watch. He looked at her, a little confused. "But, I don't wear—"

"I know. Open it up." The tears had dropped onto her cheeks, but her eyes were glowing. "I thought perhaps it would be appropriate for the breast pocket of your suit coat— next to your heart."

He pressed the latch at the top, and the lid sprang open. Inside, a glass-topped compartment held the same soft petals, and a delicate inscription spoke the identical sentiment.

"I think it's entirely appropriate. This is starting to get spooky, though." His breath came out in a laugh as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Or we're just destined to be on the same wavelength for the rest of our lives… our _life_."

Elizabeth slipped her arm through his as he stood, and leaned against his shoulder. "I hope so," she whispered. She was about to say something else, but a yawn interrupted her.

Smiling down at her, Myles gave her a lingering kiss on her cheek. "I think we need some sleep. You still have to make friends with Molly tomorrow, or I'm afraid we're going to have to call off the wedding."

She laughed. "I'll do my best. Sweet dreams, love."

* * *

Elizabeth drifted off to sleep, the wonder of the night's victory still alight in her heart...

_She gripped her grandfather's arm as they started down the aisle. The music in the chapel swelled, and she looked toward the front. Her veil obscured her view somewhat, but she knew who was waiting for her. As they reached the front, her grandfather released her arm and placed her hand in a strong, familiar one._

Strange_, she thought, _I don't recall this veil being so thick. I can't even see Myles' face_. But she shrugged it off as she heard the minister begin speaking._

_The words of the ceremony flew by; she heard herself say "I do," and heard Myles' reply. The smooth gold band slipped onto her finger easily._

"_I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."_

_Her heart was pounding as his hands lifted her veil; she couldn't wait to see his face. Keeping her eyes down until the veil was completely out of the way, she then looked up— into the manic blue eyes of Evan Graham._

"_You're mine, Dr. Dillingham. Now and always."..._

Her scream caught in her throat as she bolted up off the bed. But some sound must have escaped, because Tara was at her side instantly.

"Liz? Liz! It's okay; it was a dream." The petite agent shook her shoulders firmly, trying to bring her back to reality.

The psychologist fought the waves of fear pouring over her, gasping for air. When she finally caught her breath, she pulled away from Tara and slammed her fists into the mattress. "What is _wrong_ with me?" she cried out in frustration.

"Whoa, kiddo," Tara replied. "This isn't about anything wrong with you. Hang on; I think we need some reinforcements on this one."

"No." Elizabeth held out a hand as Tara got up. "It's Christmas Eve, Tara; _please_..."

Tara folded her arms across her chest. "I don't care if it's the day before your wedding; you promised Myles that the two of you were in this together, and that's a promise I'm not letting you back out of. Besides, something just occurred to me that we all should have thought of weeks ago."

"What?"

"You just sit tight, and you'll find out." She stepped into the hallway, only to find two doors already open, two equally tousled blond heads peering into the hallway. "Come on, guys," she quipped with a smile. "This round needs all of us."

* * *

"Ok, this is probably the strangest slumber party I've ever been to." Elizabeth was shaking, but she tried to calm her voice at least. They were all sitting on her bed, Myles with his arms around her and Sam and Tara facing her. "I don't remember screaming out loud, Tara. How did you...?"

Tara shrugged. "You may not have screamed, but you were talking in your sleep. Guess I'm just used to knowing what's going on around me. Tell them the dream; I got a basic idea already."

The psychologist took a few minutes to explain the dream to the two men. When she finished, Myles had buried his face in her shoulder, his own frustration evident, but Sam was nodding slightly.

Tara raised a brow at him. "Time for the patient to turn shrink, isn't it, Sam?"

He laughed softly. "That's one way to put it. I'm sorry, Liz; I didn't even think of this as similar to what I went through."

"What do you mean?" Then her eyes went wide as understanding dawned. "Oh; the 'dream battle' with Matthews, the night after you first faced him. A victory, or so you thought..."

"And had to re-win in my own mind," he replied. "But I had help." He glanced at his brother.

"That's true," Myles replied, his arms tightening around Elizabeth. "The twin-speak we share allowed me into his dream. But you still fought him on your own, Sam. And Elizabeth and I, as close as we are, don't share something like that."

Sam nodded. "That's right; but there are other ways to create something similar, aren't there, Liz?"

She looked up at him, her mind working within her field. "Yes...yes! Sam, you're right. A hypnotic trance would create the same effect of having someone there; my mind would create the image from the voice I'm hearing." Then she sighed. "Unfortunately, it will have to wait until we get back to D.C. I can't hypnotize myself, nor can I teach any of you how to do it in this little time."

Myles gave his twin a surprised look. "When did you get your M.D., bro?"

Sam laughed. "Nine months of intensive therapy; trust me, I'm living proof the stuff can be taught while you're the one on the couch." He reached over and patted Elizabeth's hand. "If you want, you let me know when you've got it set up and I'll be there, too."

"I will. Thanks, Sam. I should have thought of it myself, asking for your insight." She laid her head back to look up at Myles. "Apparently I'm overly stubborn."

"Oh, that's an understatement," the agent chuckled in reply. "You going to be able to get back to sleep, or do we start a round of 'Truth or Dare'? That's what you girls do at slumber parties, right?"

She smiled. "After earlier tonight, I think I'll take the dares from now on." She looked over at the other couple, who had puzzled looks on their faces. "I think re-telling it will get this nightmare out of my head, though, so let's get it over with."

Ten minutes later, Sam slapped his brother on the shoulder as they headed back to their rooms; Tara's soft laughter could still be heard. "Always told me you fell head-over-heels for her. Never knew you meant that literally."


	12. Ch 7: A Merry Little Christmas

**Chapter 7: A Merry Little Christmas

* * *

**

_Myles' Grandparents' House_

_Falmouth, Massachusetts_

_Saturday, Christmas Day, 2 p.m.

* * *

_

"No way! That was _totally _unfair!"

Rose Leland laughed as she watched her twin grandsons and their ladies come back into the house, as covered in snow as if they were all ten years old again. 6-year-old Molly Leland was perched on Elizabeth's back, giggling at her uncle. All the other boys and the rest of the adults were still outside in the thick of it. The old lady sighed; she just hadn't had the energy today to join in. But that was all right; she'd not trade her family today for all the vigor she'd had when she was younger. And that it looked as if _all_ her grandchildren would finally have families of their own just made it sweeter.

"Elizabeth says 'all's fair in love and snowball fights,' Uncle Myles!" The little girl wiggled down and started to pull off her wet coat, her blue eyes sparkling against her pink cheeks.

"Oh, she does?" He turned and gave Tara a mock-scowl. "And _where _was my FBI colleague while I was being ambushed?"

Tara was shaking the snow out of her curls. "Trying to defend myself from 'Blizzard Barrage' Sam over here. I couldn't _see_ to watch your back, let alone cover you."

Myles wasn't giving up so easily. "I never realized there was a danger of tunnel rats in the middle of a New England snowfield." He eyed Elizabeth warily. "And _where_ did you learn how to belly-crawl so silently?"

The psychologist laughed. "It's _snow_, love... not three feet of dried grass."

Molly had run over to her great-grandmother. "Gram, did you see? Elizabeth showed me how to sneak up on Uncle Myles and we got snow all down his back! I've never been on the _winning_ team before!"

The agent turned to Elizabeth, mock-outrage on his face. "Betrayed by my own niece!"

"Hey, you said I had to make friends with her, or the wedding was off."

"I said _make friends_ with her, not replace me in her loyalties completely!" He pulled several clumps of snow out from under his coat collar and balled them together. "I think perhaps it's a good thing I managed to sneak some ammunition along with me." He advanced on the psychologist, a wicked grin on his face.

Elizabeth backed up, running into Sam in the process. She looked up at him as he caught her by the arms. "Sam! You wouldn't..."

He pretended to consider the matter. "Hmm... let's see. Aiding and abetting could get me in trouble with the Feds here. Of course, messing with a shrink could be just as bad..." Then he grinned broadly. "'Fraid blood wins out this time, Dr. Liz."

"Oh, sure; switch sides in the middle of the battle. Thanks a lot." She looked over to where Tara was hanging up her coat. "Tara!"

"Sorry, Liz," Tara replied with a smile. "Gotta protect the unit, after all. Besides, you had plenty of help out there, even if it just deserted you in here."

Myles was right in front of her now. Elizabeth looked up at him, a challenge in her green eyes, as if she really didn't think he'd do it. But she knew better; she had one possible ally left.

"Molly! Help!"

But it was too late. Almost tenderly, he placed his hand at the back of her neck, making sure the snowball went under the collar of her sweater. She yelped, trying to escape, but Sam was having none of it. The cold slid all the way down her back.

"Myles Robert, so help me…"

Now he took her from Sam, who stepped over to Tara. Myles guided her right back against the entry closet, and made sure her back pressed against the wood, squashing the snow onto her skin. His eyes were bright with mischief. "So help you _what_, Elizabeth _Catherine_?"

Rose decided a rescue was in order. Taking Molly by the hand, she walked into the entryway. "All right, you two. Do I need to go find a hickory switch?" She was trying hard not to laugh, but it wasn't working very well.

"You…" Elizabeth put her fisted hands up against Myles' chest, trying to break his hold on her. "You _will_ regret this, love."

"Somehow I doubt that." He placed his still-wet hands on her cheeks, causing her to gasp again, then captured her mouth briefly. As soon as she relaxed against him, he drew back and smiled. "See? All thoughts of revenge neutralized. Simply takes the proper tactic."

Tara giggled. "I want to see you try that 'tactic' the next time we have a vengeful terrorist on the loose."

* * *

&

* * *

"Wow." Molly's eyes were wide as she looked at Elizabeth. "Uncle Myles must _really_ like you. He never lets _anyone_ take that seat."

The psychologist smiled and patted one of the cushions on the floor by the hearth. "I'm just saving it for him while he gets changed. You want to help?"

"Sure!" The six-year-old pounced on the pillow, propping her chin in her hands and swinging her feet up to cross at the ankles. Bright blue eyes peeked out from the sway of dark hair. "Are you gonna have a flower girl for your wedding? 'Cause I'm good at keeping petals on the middle rug."

"Molly has a future in the diplomatic corps, as you can see." Myles chuckled as he came over and sat down next to them. He ruffled his niece's hair. "Don't you, princess?"

"The dip-lo-lat-ic what?" Her features drew together in puzzlement.

Elizabeth laughed. "He's teasing you, Molly," she replied. "Uncle Myles is just saying that you say what's on your mind. I think we might have an opening for a flower girl, don't we, love?"

He nodded, and Molly jumped up to throw her arms around them both. "Oh, cool! I gots to tell Mommy I need a new dress!" She took off, but then skidded to a halt and came back. "Is it okay if I call you Aunt Elizabeth even if you aren't married to Uncle Myles yet?"

The psychologist gave her a serious look, though the green eyes were twinkling. "Hmmm… well, since you're going to be our flower girl, I think maybe that would be all right."

The little girl gave her an _I-know-you're-teasing-me_ look, then placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. "Well, if it's not too much trouble," she huffed in a voice too old for her grin. Then she threw herself at Elizabeth again. "You're fun, Aunt Elizabeth… just like Uncle Sam." And she was off again.

Myles looked hurt. "_I'm_ not fun?" he called after her. Then he grinned when Molly turned around and blew him a kiss from across the room.

Elizabeth laughed. "You've just been 'fun' for all of her life. We're new blood to break in." She looked up as Sam approached, with Tara in hand and his parents and grandparents behind him. "Okay, that's _way _too serious an expression for Christmas Day in this house. The Dillingham 'mausoleum,' yes; but not here. And I've only been here a day. What's up?"

Sam sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs, and pulled Tara down to perch on the arm of it. "Figured a little extra support might be a good idea for a bit of news-breaking."

"Ah." Myles glanced at his parents and grandparents. "Well, everyone doesn't need to look so somber. It's not _that_ bad."

Robert Leland, his father, eyed him for a moment. "Then you already know what this is all about?"

The agent nodded, smiling. "Yes, Dad, I do. And I think it was a wise move on Sam's part. Have a seat, just relax, and let him tell you."

The older man found a place on the sofa next to his wife; Rose and M. Robert chose the matching rockers. When everyone was settled, Sam took a breath. "Myles is right, I guess. It's not bad news at all; I just wasn't sure how everyone would take it, is all." He looked up at Tara, who made a _just-say-it_ motion with her hands. "Okay… I bought a house down in DC this past week. I'm going to move down there."

Four rather blank looks were the response. Then Robert Leland said, "That's great, Sam, if that's what you want. I know it's been a little rough up here…"

Sam nodded. "That's only part of the reason for moving, but yeah."

Anne Leland looked a little distraught. "But you just… I mean…"

"I just 'got home,' so to speak?" He finished her sentence with a smile. "I know, Mom. But this is part of that, too. I can't stay in that house with all its past, and I'm too old to move home. This is a good step forward. Besides," he added with a grin, "somebody's got to keep an eye on 'SuperAgent' here, so he doesn't get himself shot or infected again."

Myles rolled his eyes as laughter rippled through the group. "You're just afraid some Washington politician is going to swoop in and snatch your precious 'Lady MarioKart' out from under your nose."

Tara leaned over and placed a kiss on Sam's cheek. "Not a chance."

"Well, you'll still have the house on the Vineyard for vacations," his grandfather said. "Nice to escape from all that hot air once in a while; and I don't just mean the summer sun."

Sam chuckled, then took another breath. "Actually… I won't. I'm not keeping the mansion."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Robert said, "You're selling it?"

"No." His hair flew in a wave of pale gold as he shook his head. "I donated it to the Boston Boys' Home. They can use a 'summer getaway' place more than I need one." He looked around at the surprised faces and dove in before he lost his courage.

"Mom, I just couldn't stay there any more. It's time to move forward, and I wanted to leave something behind that would do some good. I owe Matthews that much; to take his nightmare and mess it up one last time. I already talked to Granddad Effingham about it, and he said that Uncle Everett would have found that a fitting use."

Anne Leland nodded, reaching over to pat her son's arm. "It's all right, Sam. I'm sure that Uncle Everett wouldn't mind at all; donating the house to help those poor boys was a wonderful idea. And you're right; it's a marvelous way to end the nightmare."

Sam blinked; then his breath came out in a _whoosh_ of relief. His father raised a brow at him. "Sam, what did you think? That we'd disown you for this?"

"I… I don't know, Dad." The words were a little hesitant. "I guess I just didn't want to do anything to… send us backward. The last nine months haven't been easy, I know…"

Rose stood up and took her husband's hand. "I think we'll let the six of you talk a little more. Sam, I think it was a wonderful gesture. And I know I've said it too many times over the past few months, but I am so glad you're home. _Really_ home."

"Thanks, Gram." He smiled as they headed toward the family room, where Brad, James and their families were gearing up at the piano. Then he turned back to his parents. "So it's really okay?"

"Yes, it's really okay, Sam." Robert looked at his other son. "Myles, you didn't give him this idea that we'd be upset, did you?"

"Of course not," Myles replied. "But, since I haven't been up here during the past nine months, I wasn't sure what the atmosphere was. I didn't sway him one way or the other, though. And he caught me by surprise as well; I knew nothing about donating the mansion before he told us on Monday, but I thought it was a great idea, too. Twist the knife in Matthews a little."

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise. "Yes, I know," he replied with a tight smile. "Revenge isn't exactly my style. But you didn't see this guy in the interrogation room that day."

"You're not getting any argument from me," she replied. "It was just strange to hear you put it that way."

Robert sat forward in his seat, his hands folded across his knees and a light in his eyes. "Sam, what would you say to the rest of us helping out a bit? I think a trust to keep them running in this new facility would be a perfect way for the family to show our gratitude to God for bringing you back to us… _all_ the way back."

Sam's blue eyes widened as he drew back against the chair cushions. "Dad, I…" Not quite knowing how to finish, he looked first at his twin.

Myles was nodding. "Count me in, Dad," he said, his gaze still on his brother.

"Count you in on what, Myles?" Brad and James had sauntered over. "Looks like a family conference. Why weren't we invited?" Brad's dark eyes, inherited from Anne, sparked with curiosity.

It only took Robert a moment to explain his idea; when he finished, James was smiling. "Of course," he said, "I think it's perfect. I'll talk to my accountant tomorrow."

Sam was speechless; he kept looking from one to the other, his eyes getting wider by the minute, until Elizabeth was afraid it was too much and he'd bolt. She leaned forward and held up her hand as Brad started to add his support.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

"Uh…" He shook his head as if to clear it; Tara ran her hand across his shoulders, and it seemed to help. He took a breath and looked up at them all. "Sorry; I guess I just wasn't expecting this. I guess…" He seemed to be struggling for words, but moved forward nonetheless. "I guess I'm used to doing things on my own, against the current...instead of turning it."

James came around the end of the couch, perched on the arm and crossed his arms over his chest. "Or you're used to the rest of us not really knowing how to take you, and so you go your own route before we have a chance to adjust?" He grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling. "We just don't work at quite your warp speed, little brother. Now, Myles, here... well, him we can keep up with."

Myles laughed. "Oh, thanks, Jamie. Just what I needed to hear."

"Are you sure, though?" Sam asked of the people around him, sounding doubtful. He looked pensive, oblivious to the jesting of his older brothers. "Because it's okay if you don't really want to..."

Brad Leland leaned against the back of the couch. "Sam, think about it. Have you ever known the Leland clan to do _anything_ they didn't truly want to?"

At that, Sam had to grin. "No, not really," he admitted, "I just don't want anyone to feel...obligated. If you guys can take care of the paper work and everything, that'd be great, and I can cover the money..."

Myles leaned over to Elizabeth and spoke softly into her ear, but loud enough that it would carry to his twin. "Is over-stubbornness supposed to be a side-effect of his therapy? Because I really wish someone had warned us."

She smiled brightly. "If he's this stubborn with you all, I can't imagine how he's going to react when I tell him I plan to add some of the Dillingham fortune to this little project." She raised a brow at the others. "If I'm worthy to join such a prestigious group."

"Of course," James nodded. "That is, if Sam is actually going to give us the okay."

Brad leaned over, and stage-whispered, "If he says no, we could always go 'anonymous'."

Sam finally got his voice back, and stuttered. "I think...this might be the first time I've been speechless in a long time. Of course I'll let you help...but...thank you, guys. All of you." He choked on the last word, and immediately clamped his mouth shut, blinking fiercely.

Anne Leland smiled. "You said you were ready to come home, Sam. We just want to make sure you know that we're more than ready to _have_ you home."

"I think you'd better take them up on that, Sam," Tara said softly to him. "Because if you don't, I'm going to see if they'll adopt _me_." She grinned as he looked up at her in surprise.

He buried a kiss in her hair. "You just be patient, Miss Ma'am. You'll get your chance, but for now, they're all mine." Sam looked around the room, scanning every face. "It's good to be back."

* * *

&

* * *

"You're quiet." Elizabeth sat down next to Myles, who was stretched out in front of the hearth, looking up at the tree. "You always this anti-social?"

He sat up slightly to observe the annual Monopoly war taking place at the dining room table. This year, it appeared to be teams; each of the nephews was paired up with a dad, a grandfather, or an uncle. Sam was helping Robert, the youngest— which made the odds even worse, because Robbie was notorious for cleaning the rest of them out all on his own.

"The truth?" Myles said softly. "Monopoly bores me to tears. I think that's why I went for the criminology/law degree; I wanted a bit more adventure in my life than chasing stock prices." He stretched out his arm. "Care to join me?"

She curled up next to him, laughing softly. "From what Molly tells me, that's an offer not many people are privy to. So what's the big secret about this particular spot, anyway? Or is it classified?"

"Oh, definitely classified," he chuckled. "But you do have some security clearance with the Bureau, so I suppose it's safe to tell you. Although, after that little ambush today…"

She gestured an "x" over her heart. "You have my word; I won't even tell Molly. Besides," she quipped, waving her left hand in front of him, letting the solitaire catch the firelight, "you have a bit more hold over me than your niece does."

"True." He pulled her a bit closer to him and pointed at the tree. "When I was about four years old," he murmured in her ear, "I discovered that the Christmas tree looks a lot bigger from down here. It's been the best part of Christmas for me ever since."

She tilted her head a bit to follow his gaze. "You're right; it does. I had wondered about the pile of cushions in front of the fireplace at your house. You've never seemed the 'floor' type."

"Now you know." He smiled against her hair.

"Are you two over here making out again?" Sam popped his head over the couch.

"_No,_" Myles half-growled, making Elizabeth giggle. "What'd Robert do, fire you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Move over, Trump. It's like _The Apprentice_. Someone needs to tell that kid it's just Monopoly." He put one hand on the back of the couch and jumped over.

"He's just jealous," Tara said, coming around in a more ladylike manner. "That his nephew can play a _game_ better than him."

Sam's lower lip curled in a pout and he threw a pillow at her halfheartedly. "It's a board game. There's a difference. And I am not."

Myles laughed. "That's Robbie, all right. He's destined to make Bill Gates look like a cart-peddler."

Elizabeth looked over at Tara. "Are you guys staying tonight and tomorrow here? Or do you have other plans?"

"I promised Mom we'd be back tomorrow and spend most of the day there," Tara replied. "That's still okay, isn't it, Sam? I can catch a commercial flight if you want some more time here."

"Leaving you to the chaos of a Post-Christmas airport? _Definitely_ a possibility." Sam said thoughtfully. Then he grinned. "Of course I'm coming. I'd just mope around here without you, anyway."

"Aww," Myles teased. "And usually it's Tara moping over some blind date gone bad." He yelped as Elizabeth swatted him at the same time Tara threw a pillow at him. "Hey!"

"Mope no more, fair lady. Blind dates are a thing of the past. And if you wish it, I will avenge you rightly." Sam stood and gave a melodramatic, sweeping bow.

"That's okay, Sam." Tara's grin was lethal. "I think I'm scheduled for a session down in the gym when we get back, with Myles as my punching bag— uh, sparring partner. But you're welcome to help him warm up."

Elizabeth was a bit surprised. "You train with someone substantially bigger than you? Oh, of course you do. That makes sense. Forgive me for being stuck in the Dark Ages, my friend." Now she smiled as well. "Just leave him in one piece when you're done, ok?"

Myles snorted. "Oh, your support and confidence is overwhelming, thank you."

"No problem, bro." Sam replied, in mock seriousness. "Anything to help."

"So, Sam..." Elizabeth rolled up to a sitting position. "You seem to have recovered from your earlier shock. Feeling a little closer to victory?"

"I'm all kinds of at the top of Mount Everest 'bout right now," Sam answered, sitting back down on the couch and putting his arm around Tara.

"I'm glad." Her eyes dropped a little. "Seeing you conquer all this makes me feel like I can do the same."

"Don't you think for a second you can't," Sam chastened, a touch of fire in his eyes and voice. "It took me over twenty years to get to where I am now, and you've gotten this far in less than one. You've already more than passed me."

Myles sat up now as well and put his arms around her. "The fact that you've faced this head-on immediately makes it a whole different battle, sweetheart." He glanced up at his twin. "I don't mean that as a reprimand, Sam..."

"S'ok. You're right." Sam glanced at Tara, who nodded, and they both slid down to sit on the floor facing the other couple. "Liz, quit beating yourself up over the fact that it's little steps. Just because you're a shrink doesn't mean you're any more immune than the rest of us. It's Christmas, you're surrounded by a bunch of nuts you're shortly going to be marrying into of your own choice, heaven knows why." He shot Myles a grin. "And it's time to set the problems of the world on the back burner. Anyone up for a late-night snowball fight?"

Elizabeth laughed, the light returning to her eyes. "I don't think I dare to. But I think a double-date walk out in the snow would be a nice way to end this evening before you all take off for parts south tomorrow."

"Sounds great to me," Tara added. "Besides, I still need to figure out some way to go back to relating to this really crabby co-worker I have, instead of the complete _stranger_ I've discovered this holiday season. The rest of the team will never believe me."


	13. Ch 8: Unusual Tactics

**Chapter 8: Unusual Tactics

* * *

**

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Monday, 27 December_

_9 a.m._

"All right. Hope you all enjoyed your holidays, because we've got work to do." Dimitrius tapped his fist against the board. "Recap and regroup."

Bobby dropped the lid back on the box of strawberry tarts that had sneaked its way onto his desk yet again and leaned back in his chair. "Well, since we didn't get a lot of help from our pal 'Socrates,' we've spent the last month working our way through a few other 'distributors' and have managed to move up a couple of levels. Myles seems to be our golden boy on this one." The Aussie rolled his eyes as the Harvard grad gave him a smug smile.

"This group is well organized," Jack added. "Nobody seems to know much more about the leadership than their own immediate contact."

"I have a meet scheduled for Friday night with my latest contact," Myles said. "See about working my way up into middle management. They offer a better salary."

D rolled his eyes slightly at the quip, then stared at the board for a long moment. "Is it just me, or are these guys getting younger with each level we go up?"

Eyes widened all over the room, and several heads were nodding. Tara brought up the files. "Yup. We lose an average of three years with each level."

"Lovely," Myles intoned. "By the time we get to 'Mr. Big' we'll be arresting toddlers. Although it would be a step above our usual criminal's mentality." He caught the puzzled look on Sue's face and immediately signed SORRY. He then followed up with JOKE ME. TOP PEOPLE MORE YOUNG. MANAGER CHILD. He indicated "toddler" with the height of CHILD at the top of his desk.

She smiled and responded SMART BABY. THANK-YOU.

NO PROBLEM.

Bobby shook his head. "I still feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone watching _you_ sign, mate."

D brought the conversation back on track before Myles could respond. "So what's happening to the real jewels once they're replaced with the fakes? We're not seeing them showing up in pawnshops anywhere in the country. We've even got the Canadians keeping an eye out for them." He faced Sue head-on. "Howie find anything?"

Sue shrugged. "Not a thing. We think they either have a stash somewhere, until the coast is clear, or there's another plan in motion."

They spent a few minutes tossing theories back and forth; no one noticed the slightest raising of a pair of blond brows over blue-grey eyes that now gleamed with the seeds of an idea. He needed to talk to someone before he presented it, though.

"All right," D said finally. "We're not getting anywhere just sitting here speculating. I figure we have a bit of a lull on heists right now. Christmas is over, and it's still seven weeks before the biggest jewelry-buying holiday of the year. Most of these stores will start getting their Valentine inventory in two weeks. Let's not have Sam running in here again because Tara's present turned out to be counterfeit."

Tara blushed clear to her toes as laughter rippled around the Bullpen. D then continued, "Pair off; find out when and from where shipments are coming in. Keep an eye out for patterns in dates, routes, anything you can think of. Let's see if we can have a little more to go on by Friday. Jack, Sue; Myles, Bobby; Tara, you're with me. Let's get to it."

* * *

&

* * *

_Gymnasium, Hoover Building_

_Monday, December 27_

_4 p.m._

Tara swung off the monkey bars and landed on the mat, catching the towel Myles tossed at her in the same motion. "Are you _supposed_ to skip every other bar?" she asked with a grin, draping the towel over her shoulder.

He gave it right back to her. "Only on the last lap." He leaned down and let his body stretch until his palms were almost flat on the floor, then gave her a mock-glare when she did the same move and made it all the way down. "You don't want to trade backs, do you?"

"No, thanks, old man," she teased. "But I think I'm glad I'm short. That six-foot height those bars are set at doesn't exactly help you out, does it?"

They'd been down here for an hour already; the warm-up alone was enough to make most "weekend athletes" cringe. A mile of laps, straight-back pushups, crunches, and fifteen minutes apiece on the punching bag; they'd just finished twenty laps across the bars, and were just now getting to the paired-off workout of takedowns and defense.

"Can I ask you something?" Myles straightened and shook the kinks out of his neck.

"Sure."

"It just seems like you usually schedule these workouts so you end up with me. Bobby too rough on you?"

Tara sat down on the mat and continued to stretch her legs. "Just the opposite," she replied, her voice slightly muffled as she bent down to touch her forehead to her knee. She sat back up and huffed in exasperation. "Bobby, even after all this time, still treats me like his kid sister; like he's going to break me or something. You at least take me seriously."

The blond agent laughed. "I started taking you seriously the first time we sparred together; you put me halfway through the mat, I think. You were only a month out of Quantico, and it never occurred to me that you'd have learned so quickly to use your stature to throw off a taller opponent's balance."

"Hey, I grew up with brothers and male cousins. I had to learn to use my size to my advantage. That's not training; it's called survival instinct."

They moved over to the center of the mat; Tara wasn't often involved in takedown situations, but she always made sure she was ready for it. She made it a point to train often with either Myles or Bobby, because most perps were a bit larger than, say, Howie Fines. That she could still catch them both by surprise was a feat she was secretly proud of.

Myles set himself and waited; the first few moves he usually let her have as "freebies;" it gave her a chance to find her rhythm. "Thanks for delivering Bobby's 'secret' this time, by the way. It'll throw him off even further."

"No problem. I heard him light into you; he's really getting it down to a sermon, isn't he?" She set herself as well: feet apart, knees bent slightly, back straight with her arms forward. They faced off, ready at any moment, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Myles suddenly grabbed Tara's left forearm with his right hand, jerking her forward and holding her tight. Looking up at him, she grinned, and a whisper of "Aha" escaped under her breath.

"A_ha_?" He repeated, raising a brow at her. "This one's a freebie, TaraTech; you already know that. So finish it off."

"All right." Tara grabbed his left shoulder with her left hand, placing her right foot slightly behind his right foot. She didn't realize that he had done the same foot maneuver, but he gave her time to react. Quickly, she raised her petite foot slightly above his ankle and latched onto his leg, pulling his shoulder forward while sweeping with her foot. A moment later she found herself with her knee hovering just above his throat as he quietly lay on the ground, surprised anew at her ability to take him down so easily.

"You know, you'd think I'd be used to that by now," he quipped.

Tara swiveled her knee off to the side, tapping his chest as she laughed. "You're just getting _slow_ in your old age is all, Myles, freebies or not." She held her hand out to help him up.

He brushed himself off. "Ready for another round, partner?"

She nodded, setting herself again. "I'm ready for you. And skip the freebies this time."

"Your call," he grinned.

Tara rubbed her hands together, her eyes gleaming with certain joy. For all she'd told Sue about avoiding "all possibility of collision that doesn't involve airbags," this was a part of her job she looked forward to; pitting herself against a challenger, pushing herself to her limits. And that _most_ of her male colleagues let her do just that made it more rewarding.

She did a slight jump in the air and landed, feet perfect for her next maneuver. Again they both held their feet apart, bodies sideways, arms ready to strike the other with little or no warning.

Myles' arm shot at her like a snake striking for its prey during a feeding frenzy. His hand latched onto her forearm and twisted it counter-clockwise in a single motion. His foot slid behind hers, and in a sweeping motion knocked her quickly to the ground, his knee landing on her upper arm, holding her in place and knocking the breath out of her for a moment.

"What was that about _slow_?" he grinned as he started to help her up.

But as he released his hold on Tara's upper arm and she had her feet under her, she grabbed his wrist. In a single swift movement she twisted it clockwise, taking his arm and then his body around as well. As he spun, she forced his arm upward to the center of his back and with her foot gently struck the back of his knee, forcing him to his knees. A single thrust to the center of his back with her other hand, and Myles found himself face first on the cold hard blue sparring mat, his female partner's knee holding his head in place on the back of his neck.

"My apologies," she chortled. "I meant slow and _senile_."

"You enjoy this _far_ too much," he grunted as she let him up again.

Tara gave him a wicked grin. "Beats hacking your computer. That I'd have to go back and repair." They faced off again; she saw the concentration on his face and knew he'd gotten truly serious. She wasn't likely to get another opening like the last one.

I had an idea this morning I thought I'd run past you," he said as they circled each other and he blocked a grab from her. "For the next level of this jewelry sting."

"So how come you didn't bring it up during the rap session?" She narrowly avoided an ankle sweep.

He followed up with his left hand at the left side of her neck, but she twisted out of it before he could complete the grab. "Because I wanted to have it at least penciled out before I tossed it at D."

Tara straightened her left leg, shifting her weight to it; drawing her right knee up, she bent it downward. "Ok, shoot," she said, striking Myles in the thigh with a straight leg kick.

He countered with a one-two punch at her. "I'm supposed to meet with this guy Friday night about moving up a notch in this organization. Don't know his name yet, but he's apparently our next rung on the ladder. I thought I'd offer a rather unique solution to their apparent problem of getting rid of the merchandise. Sort of prove I have something to warrant being involved."

"And this rather unique solution would be...?" she asked, finishing a roundhouse.

He blocked it, then returned one of his own, which she ducked. "I have this friend," he replied. "A jewelry designer who takes the stuff I bring her and re-sets it into her custom designs. As long as I keep her in materials, she doesn't ask any questions."

Tara threw another straight leg kick. "A sound idea. Who's your friend?"

"You."

She gaped at him, her concentration destroyed for the split-second he needed to lunge and sweep her feet out from under her. But he had miscalculated just how shaken she'd be; she went down much harder than he'd intended, and he was seriously off-balance for the rest of the move. His heart nearly stopped as he realized that if he didn't do some fancy maneuvering _now_, his knee would crush her windpipe.

_Oh, dear God, help me…

* * *

&_

* * *

Jack had been observing them for about ten minutes from the doorway, far enough away that he couldn't hear what they were talking about. He was always amazed to watch Tara with these guys; she was so often either in the surveillance van or coordinating from the Bullpen that he forgot she was as fully trained an Agent as the rest of them. A fact that got driven home with a vengeance at times like this.

He felt Bobby appear at his shoulder just as Myles caught Tara's shoulder and swept her ankles, and she went down hard. The move didn't look quite right, and the notion was confirmed as he saw Myles' eyes widen in shock. Jack held his breath as the blond agent came within a hair's-breadth of her trachea before he caught his balance and somersaulted over and away, landing on his back not a foot from her.

"What's he _doing_? He could have killed her!" Bobby took a step toward them, but Jack stopped him.

"Take it easy, Crash," he said. "That was an accident."

"But—"

"I've heard her gripe about her workouts with you, Bobby." Jack leaned back against the doorway and crossed his arms. "She's not made of glass. Myles takes her seriously, and he treats her the way she wants to be treated— like an _agent_ first."

Tara was still stunned from the landing, and she glanced over as Myles sat up, his breath coming hard. "No wonder it took you so long to get a girlfriend, Myles, if this is how you meet women."

He turned quickly and focused on her. "Are you all right, Tara?" he asked, obviously shaken.

"Well, that depends," she said, a bit unsteadily, as she looked up at the ceiling. "Are there little cartoon birds circling about a foot above my face?"

He smiled, though his face was about four shades paler. "No."

"Oh. Then I guess I'm okay." She sat up slowly.

"I'm so sorry; I didn't realize you'd dropped your guard that much." He drew a hand across his eyes. "I could have killed you."

She put a hand on his arm. "Myles, it's ok. You _didn't_, for which I'm grateful, and now we both know not to discuss any more of your bright ideas while we're sparring. Let it go."

It took several minutes, but eventually she saw him relax and the color returned to his face. "If you're sure you're ok."

She glared at him. "You're starting to sound like Bobby. I'm fine."

"Ok, ok." He held up his hands in surrender. "So, what do you say? Want to play the Bohemian jewelry artist with some questionable ethics?"

She looked a little doubtful. "And why can't Sue do this one?"

"Don't tell her I said this," he grinned, "but somehow I think she comes across a bit… wholesome… for a role like this."

"And I _don't_?" Tara slugged him on the shoulder. "I think I should be insulted. But ok; you've got your partner." As he signed CHAMP, she laughed. "Bobby's right; it _is_ like being in the Twilight Zone. But it's a good trip there."

Whatever they were talking about, the crisis seemed to be over, so Jack started over toward them. Bobby outpaced him, though, and Jack realized that the Aussie was still planning to light into Myles. If he hadn't been watching so closely, he'd have missed it; as Myles helped Tara to her feet, he glanced up and his fingers flashed B-O-B-B-Y. Jack could almost picture the lethal grin on his computer expert's face as she set herself very subtly.

The Aussie reached her and draped an arm over her shoulder, shooting a glare at Myles in the same motion. "That was—"

She grabbed his arm and pulled, taking a step forward and dropping into a crouch as she did so; caught totally off-guard, his own weight pulled him over her and onto the mat with a _thud_. His breath came out in a rush and he grunted as her knee landed in the middle of his chest.

Myles started laughing; Bobby shook his head a bit, trying to get over both the shock and the landing. Jack walked over to them and looked down at the tall Aussie.

"Where's a surveillance camera when you need one?" His own lips were trying to hold back a grin and failing miserably.

"Woah." Bobby looked up at the dark eyes gleaming at him in utter triumph. "Remind me to never sneak up on you."

Tara pointed a finger into his face. "More like remind you to quit treating me like I'm porcelain when we're sparring."

"After _that_ landing? No worries." He took the hand she offered and sat up, then looked behind him. "Is there a permanent imprint in the mat?"

"Yeah," Jack grinned. "Right next to the one Myles left the first time she did that to him. And the one D left, and me…"

Tara grabbed her towel off the bench and swung it around her neck. "Now you're just trying to flatter me. I think I wore Myles out. Who's next?"

* * *

&

* * *

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Monday, 7 p.m._

"You don't have to do that," Elizabeth smiled. "I'm perfectly capable of loading my own dishwasher."

Myles put the last cup in and closed the appliance door. "Look, you clean my kitchen half the time. I'm just returning the favor." He pushed the start button and then came over and leaned on the counter across from her, taking her hand. "Besides, after that session today with Dan, I think you're entitled to a night off."

She smiled brightly. "I'm glad you were there; both in the session, and then in my head while I was under hypnosis. Best to have my 'gallant knight' nearby when facing the dragon. And it really feels like I'm…" She colored slightly as he cleared his throat and eyed her. "Like _we're_ finally almost free of him."

"I know." He walked around the kitchen island, still holding her hand, and pulled her into his arms. "And it's a good feeling." His fingers trailed over her cheeks, sliding around to cup his hands around her head and pull her toward him, tasting her lips gently at first, then—

The phone rang, breaking the moment rather rudely. "So help me," Myles murmured against her lips, "if that's Sam…"

Elizabeth laughed as she picked up the phone. "Hello? Hey, Tara, what's—" She stopped abruptly and listened for a moment, her eyes clouding with concern. "Oh, dear. Calm down, Tara, it's ok. This was bound to come up sooner or later. Where is he now?"

Myles pulled back to look at her. "Sam? What's going on?"

ONE MINUTE, Elizabeth signed, still listening. "Would you like us to come over? Sure, it's no problem at all. Sit tight." She hung up the phone and sighed, leaning her head against Myles' shoulder.

"_What_?" The blue-grey eyes were almost charcoal in his concern.

She sighed again. "A little damage control is all, love. Come on; I'll tell you on the way across the street."

* * *

&

* * *

"This can't be happening." Tara was seated in one of the armchairs she and Sam had shopped for together; the Southwestern print was bold enough for Sam's personality, but it still fit with the country feel of the house. Just looking at it made her heart wrench to think they'd reached an impasse. "This absolutely _cannot _be happening. Not now; not after we've come so far…"

Elizabeth slipped an arm over her friend's shoulder as she sat down on the arm of the chair. "Tara, you don't know that _anything_ is 'happening' yet. Just calm down and tell us what happened."

The petite agent sighed and sat back. "All I did was tell Sam that I wouldn't be available on Friday night, because I had an undercover assignment. He was disappointed, but he was fine until I told him it was important he remember, because I wasn't going to be in the van this time." She smiled a little. "He's forgotten before and called me during a surveillance."

"Then what happened?" Myles' voice said he knew already.

"He went through the roof," Tara replied. "Well, for Sam, anyway. He got all quiet and wanted to know whose bright idea _that _was, and when I tried to explain that I'm just as trained for this as any of the rest of you, he just stood up and said 'I need a minute.' Then he disappeared upstairs." She slapped her hand against the dark green upholstery. "Myles, I'm _sick_ of having to defend my abilities over and over and over. To you guys at work, to every guy I've ever dated… _sick_ of it."

"Tara," he sighed, sitting down on the coffee table so that he was facing her, "it's not about your abilities; it never has been. And I think you know that. It's about an instinctive desire to protect a lady we're all quite fond of. Just a guy thing that will probably never change. But it's not just that here. I'll guarantee you, as surely as I know him, that this is about _fear_— and that's something Sam's all too familiar with."

"He's right, Tara," Elizabeth agreed softly. "Sam's going through the same thing I did with Myles and that case with my grandfather, with one marked difference. I was a part of that operation, got to see first-hand what was going on, not that it lessened my fears at all. But Sam doesn't even have that option; he has only his own ideas of what will happen, and the thought of losing you is terrifying to him. He just got his life on track, and now something is threatening it, in his mind, anyway."

"His imagination will do far worse than anything we'll face in this simple meet," Myles continued. "Let me go talk to him."

Tara looked up, her eyes troubled. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Myles. I told him who's 'bright idea' it was— I don't think he's any happier with you right now than he is with me. You might end up on the wrong end of a right hook."

Elizabeth couldn't resist. "After the workout you got today, I don't know if you could handle that."

Despite the circumstances, her comment brought laughs from both Myles and Tara. "Very funny," Myles retorted; then he sobered. "No, I don't think he'd ever take a swing at anyone; not after Matthews. I'm more concerned that he'll shut down on me again. But we have to do something. I'll be right back." He stood and went upstairs.

The psychologist squeezed Tara's shoulder. "Don't worry, my friend. We'll get this worked out."

* * *

&

* * *

A light tap on the doorsill brought Sam's head up; his blue eyes darkened as he saw his twin. "Reinforcements, I see?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice. "Come to tell me I'm yet again being irrational about something in my life? Already had that sermon, bro— not buying." He sat up from where he'd been sprawled across his bed. Glorfindel was asleep on one of the pillows.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay." Myles purposely kept his voice neutral as he sat down on the cushioned window seat off to Sam's right. "Understand you had a bit of a row."

"You could say that." Sam flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. ""You know, if it weren't for the flashback I _know_ would happen, you'd be on the floor about now with a sore jaw. Mind telling me what possessed you to drag Tara onto the front lines?"

"My job. And hers." Myles folded his arms across his chest and waited until his brother's gaze swung around. "She doesn't have that nine-millimeter at her hip just for show, Sam. She's a fully-trained agent, and that includes undercover work."

"But—"

"But _nothing_, Sam," his twin replied. "Look, I know you'd like me to sugar-coat this for you and let her stay in the van, but the truth is I need help at this stage of the game, and she's the best person to do it."

He took a breath. "Sue can't do this one— wrong look for what we need— nor should she have to. She's not an Agent, though heaven knows she's certainly logged enough field hours for one. Leaving Tara in the van all the time isn't fair; in fact, it's an insult to all her training and expertise."

Sam stared at him for a long time; when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "So I'm basically being a jerk for giving her grief about it."

Myles shook his head. "No, Sam," he sighed, "not a jerk. That you reacted the way you did shows how much you care about her. Unfortunately, Tara's had to put up with guys 'caring' her whole career, and to her it feels like we don't think she can do the job. Which she can, believe me."

"So what do I do?" Sam demanded after a moment's thought, sitting up again. With a pensive frown, he added, "How do I keep us _both_ happy?"

"Twin, if I knew the answer to that, she'd quit yelling at us when we do the same thing to her." Myles leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Seriously, though? I guess it boils down to what are you _willing_ to do? But that's something you need to figure out later. Right now, you've got her downstairs stressed out over this immediate case. That's the first hurdle. So tell me straight: this scares you to death, doesn't it?"

Sam looked down at the bed, and after a long silence, finally whispered, "Yeah. It does. I mean, things are good right now. Life feels like it's actually _mine_ again. And she's a big part of that." He picked up volume and momentum as he continued. "What if she gets hurt? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong and—"

Myles held up a hand to cut him off before he could get completely wound up. "Sam, there are 'what ifs' in every part of life. You know that. We've dealt with so much of that over the course of the past twenty-two years... what if I hadn't run off and left you there by yourself? What if Dad had taken us with him? What if we'd tried this or that to find you?"

He sighed. "We deal with them every day at work. What if we don't get this guy in time? What if we miss something, and a bomb goes off or a terrorist kills ten thousand people? What if one of Elizabeth's patients goes berserk on her and strangles her in her office? It'll drive you nuts if you let it, Sam."

"So what do I do?" Sam repeated, looking up. "I should probably apologize...or...I don't _know_. I want a fast forward button," he moaned, running a hand through his hair.

The comment brought a soft chuckle from his twin. "So you know how the movie's going to turn out? There are times I wish the same thing. But I think she just needs to know how you feel. There's nothing _wrong_ with the fear, Sam. You're doing fine— you didn't go off on her right to her face, and you didn't shut down and go hide. You simply took a break to think things out. _Now_, you just need to let her know that you're still there. She's afraid this is going to become a barrier, just like it has with every other guy she's ever dated."

"I don't want to be every guy she's ever dated." Sam replied almost immediately, lowering his hand and looking at Myles. "And I don't want this to be a barrier, either. I'll talk to her..." He paused. "I just...I need to think of what I'm gonna say. But promise me you'll keep an eye on her?"

"I promise," was the sober reply. Then the blue-grey eyes of his twin twinkled with humor. "Although, after that sparring session this afternoon, she's more likely to be keeping an eye on _me_."


	14. Ch 9: Front Row Seat

**Chapter 9: Front-Row Seat

* * *

**

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Friday, 31 December _

_7 p.m._

"This is _such_ a bummer. New Year's Eve, our _first_ New Year's Eve, and she has to work." Sam was pacing in Elizabeth's kitchen. "I mean, I know her schedule is like this, unpredictable and all, but you'd think the Bureau could give us a break once in awhile."

She watched him, gave him enough ranting time to make him comfortable, then grabbed him mid-lap and swung him onto a stool. "You're still worried about her, aren't you, Sam? That she's not behind the scenes on this one?"

He blinked. "How do you _do _that?"

Elizabeth laughed. "I've been dating Myles for over a year now, and you have to ask me that?" Then she sobered and folded her hands in front of her on the counter. "I know you and Myles talked about this, and I'm assuming that you and Tara did…" She trailed it off as a question.

"Yeah, we did. Myles was honest. I know I'm gonna have to deal with this, and I told Tara I wasn't going to let it come between us. I'm not one of those guys she used to date." He sighed. "But I'm still worried as heck, and I just want it to be over."

"And this is just a meeting with a contact," she nodded. "I know. It's never easy, Sam. And Myles is _usually _right in the heart of things. They're not exactly in the safest line of work. But they believe passionately in what they're doing, and I'm not going to smother that because I worry. I made that decision some time ago."

Sam gave her a piercing look. "After the Ebola thing?"

She nodded. "Yes. It was bad enough watching him in the hospital, but I think the one thing that drove the point home for me was actually seeing him get hit with that dart. It was an unusual circumstance, I know; if it hadn't been for my grandfather's delusions of godhood, I wouldn't have been there at the conference. I'd have been at the hospital still, of course, but it wouldn't have been the same." She sighed. "I'm not sure if this is making any sense, Sam. All I know is that when I asked Myles how he could face that possibility every day, he said it pretty much boiled down to 'let peace begin with me, no matter the cost.' And I realized that I needed to be able to say the same thing, with the same conviction, if I were going to be a part of his life."

She sighed again, and leaned her elbows on the counter, resting her cheek on her hands so she was looking over at him. "You know what finally tipped the scales for me?"

"What?"

"I remembered a quote from a movie that came back to me while we were waiting for the conference to begin." The surprised look he gave her made her laugh. "What? You're not the only one who can get inspired by multimedia."

Sam chuckled. "Does sound a bit strange coming from a shrink, though. What was the movie?"

"_Dragonheart_. The Knight's Code." Her voice went soft and her eyes dropped. "'A knight is sworn to valor. His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless…"

"His might upholds the weak." Sam's voice made her trail off, and he continued. "His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked."

Elizabeth nodded, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "I realized… that's what they are, Sam. Knights, putting themselves between us and the dragons of this world. I spent _three years_ on a post-doctoral research project involving law enforcement, and never realized that fact until _that day_. After I knew that Myles was going to be all right, I spent some time really thinking about that. I knew that, if I were going to be truly fair to him and what we could have together, then I needed to let him be who he is. Not only that; I knew I had to love him enough to let him go if his job required it. I guess, in a way, I had to make the same decision he did when he signed on at the Bureau."

Sam looked at her soberly. "And you did. I've seen that framed piece you did for him. 'Let peace begin with us.' Even if it means—"

"Even if it means I have to lose him one day in the name of peace." She looked up at him, her green eyes glistening but her voice steady. "I can do that, Sam, I can make that decision because I fell in love with the man he is, and I wouldn't change him for anything. That's _my_ contribution to the cause, I guess you could say."

"And I need to be able to say the same thing to Tara, don't I?" His voice caught her attention, and she looked over at him. The look on his face made her proud of him, and sad at the same time; for the first time since she'd known him, she saw an adult, a man who looked ready to face whatever life handed him head-on. "That's my last step."

She reached over and squeezed his hand, smiling. "Big step, trust me. But yes, I think so. Certainly as far as your relationship with her goes. But accepting the path she's chosen, and choosing to be at her side on it, isn't something you can do once and then let it rest. You still fight the… fear, I guess, each day and make the choice again."

She paused, her dark brows going up as she realized something. "I suppose… I suppose it helps you fight the other fears in your life as well. Knowing that you've made the choice to walk whatever path is put in front of you in the name of peace… it makes it easier to face your own nightmares."

Sam saw comprehension cross her features, and he laughed softly. "Gee, you swung that around quite nicely, Doc. Isn't it annoying when you end up curing yourself?"

Elizabeth shot him a look, then laughed as well. "Incredibly. Come on; I don't feel like sitting here on New Year's Eve, either. Let's go find a quiet spot with good food, and just hang out for the evening."

Sam stood and held his arm out to her. "Only if you let me buy."

* * *

&

* * *

"_The Green Man," Pub & Grill_

_Near Georgetown University_

_Friday, 9 p.m._

The pub was quiet; most of D.C. was off preparing to ring in the new year. Only a few solitary souls graced the worn stools of the bar, muted by the dark paneling. The place had the distinctive feel of an old Irish pub; Tudor-style beams crossing the walls, rough, strong support posts lining the aisles, and Celtic tiles adding a bit of color.

"Ok, this place rocks," Sam said as he pushed his plate back. "Thoroughly cool in décor, they don't overcharge you for the drinks, and that was, I think, the best steak I've ever had. Even the name of the place is cool— _The Green Man_. Sounds like an old Bogey flick."

Elizabeth laughed. "Myles introduced me to this place on about our third date, and I fell in love with it immediately." She pointed at his glass. "Want a refill on your soda? I could use another."

"Sure, Liz. You know, I'm glad you dragged me out here. I think this is better than any party. If Bro and Lady MarioKart were here, it'd be perfection."

Elizabeth started to get up to go over to the bar when she noticed the new bartender coming on shift. She sat down quickly. "Oh, no. Oh, no, no, _no_. Oh, dear."

"What is it, Liz?" Sam asked.

She swung back around to face him, and lowered her voice. "Sam, I think we might just run into them after all. We picked the wrong place to come tonight."

He looked totally bewildered. "Why?"

"Because Bobby's behind the bar."

"_What_?" Sam started to look over, but her hand on his arm stopped him. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes, which means _this_ is where whatever's going on tonight is... going on." Very carefully, she glanced around the restaurant, trying to see if anyone looked like they might be waiting for a contact. "Sam, the booth sides aren't high enough to hide us. If Myles' contact is already here, he's going to think _you're_ Myles."

His blue eyes went very wide. "Uh-oh. Houston, we have a problem."

"And then some." Elizabeth gave him a piercing look. "Sam, can you get through to Myles right now? The twin-speak?"

He looked off into space for a moment, then shook his head. "Nope. He's shut off right now; when he's working, that wall is as thick as it ever was. We've actually been working on that a bit, since there's no way I can have security clearance." A slight grin appeared as he said it. Then it vanished again. "So, now what?"

"I don't know, Sam," she replied. "We may have to hope they notice us."

* * *

&

* * *

Tara pulled on the denim jacket and adjusted the three clip-on hoops at the top of her ear. "How did I let you talk me into this?" she asked the tall figure at her side.

He grinned as she knotted the blue batik sash at her waist, through the loops of her hip-hugger jeans. "I think you lost a sparring session." He was back in the "Zorro" outfit, and leaned back against the wall of the van with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

She smoothed down the embroidered peasant blouse. "Oh, yeah. That's right. _I_ lost, but there are two more permanent imprints in the mat." She ran her fingers through her hair, which she'd colored black and added several beaded braids to for the evening, then put a hand on her hip and looked up at him, grinning. "Well, boss, how do I look?"

Myles looked her over, then had to laugh. "Like you were in the middle of an explosion at a gypsy camp. But it's perfect for tonight." He turned to Jack, who was manning the cameras tonight with Sue. "Bobby in place?"

"He just got there. Looking for your contact now." They watched as the camera in the pen in the Aussie's shirt panned the room. A second camera, courtesy of Dimitrius' watch, caught a different angle.

"There he is." Myles pointed at the screen. A dark-haired youth was sitting at the table nearest the door, his back to it.

"Ready and waiting," Tara quipped. "Let's go."

Suddenly, Sue straightened. "Oh my gosh! Jack, tell Bobby to pan back the other way slowly."

"Why? What?"

He relayed the message, though; they all stared in shock as they saw Sam and Elizabeth seated in a booth, not thirty feet from Myles' contact. The looks on the two civilians' faces said they'd already figured out they were _definitely_ in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Houston, we have a problem," Bobby murmured over the radio.

One could almost hear thoughts kick into high gear, as they all realized they had very little time. Myles looked at his watch. "I'm supposed to meet Kyle in ten minutes," he said tensely. "I can't very well be in two places at once. And there's no way for them to get out of there without being spotted. At least Sam's back-to him right now, or we'd be dead already."

"Bobby, you remember the sign for STAY?" Jack spoke into the radio.

"Uh… Y hand, palm-down, brought straight down from chest to waist, both hands, right?" The Aussie sounded only half confident.

"That's it," Jack replied. "Catch Liz's eye and tell them to stay put. We're working on a way out for all of us."

"Yep."

Suddenly, Myles straightened and tapped Sue on the shoulder. "Come on; I have an idea, and I can't sign fast enough to get the message to Elizabeth. And I can't call her on her cell phone if this is going to work out right."

He took a minute to outline his plan, and Jack nodded. "That's perfect. Go."

* * *

&

* * *

Sam was shredding a napkin in front of him. "'Stay put,' he says. What the heck good is that gonna do? We're gonna get them made, or shot, or—"

"Sam, relax," Elizabeth said. "And when did you pick up the police lingo?"

The quip had the desired effect, and he smiled a little. "Shrink, police, I can rap with the best of them. So now what?"

"I think we're about to find out." She put a hand on his arm again. "No, don't turn around. Sue's in the doorway— she's saying Myles has an idea to get us all out of this without blowing the cover."

Sue's hands flew.OVER-THERE CL-1_— _she made a "1" handshape as a "classifier sign" for one person—DOOR HIM WAIT NOW. S-A-M ACT HIM MYLES, ONLY MINUTES FEW. 

Elizabeth glanced at the table Sue had indicated, and had to bury a shudder. The man sitting there couldn't have been more than 25, but he had the look of someone who'd seen far more of the darker aspects of life than she'd care to entertain. And the weapon barely hidden under his coat didn't help. _If something goes wrong…_ She took a breath. "Ok. How are your acting skills, Sam?"

"_What?_"

She held up a hand slightly to quell the panic she heard in his voice. "It's nothing major. Relax. You just need to pretend to be Myles for a few minutes. Just long enough to get us out of here."

"Oh. I can do that." He didn't sound totally convinced, but it was a start.

Elizabeth signed OK back to Sue, then relayed the rest of the plan. "Myles is going to ring your cell phone in a second. He'll tell you what to do. Then we're going to get up and walk out of here. Make sure the guy has a chance to see your face. It's dark enough in here that he won't notice the difference in the color of your eyes. When we get out to the lobby, where Myles is waiting for us, and you guys will switch jackets or whatever you need to. Then he can come back in and make his contact, and no one will be the wiser."

He stared at her for a minute. "This is crazy, you know that? The risk involved—"

"Is no more or less than any other situation they could be in right now, and I know we can do this, Sam." She bored an emerald gaze through him. "I know _you_ can do this. We have to."

He gulped, then nodded; Elizabeth subtly signed READY to Sue and caught her nod.

Sue nodded, and turned to Myles, who was at her shoulder. "They're ready."

Myles hit a speed dial on his phone. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" His twin's voice was a little shaky.

"This is easy, okay? Relax. When you and Elizabeth get up to head out, Tara will pass you on her way to sit at the bar. Just catch her eye and nod to her slightly as you go by. No other reaction." He glanced at his partner and smiled. "Oh, by the way, she looks like a Woodstock revival, so no double-takes, ok?"

Sam couldn't help but laugh softly. "Only if I get a photograph. So that's it? Just nod to her and walk out?"

"That's it, except for making sure that Kyle thinks Elizabeth is your _date_." His grin came across on the phone. "Just don't get carried away."

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning as well. "You tried to pawn her off on me once, bro; still not interested. You just take care of Lady MarioKart."

"All right. Let's do it."

"'K." Sam flipped the phone shut, took a deep breath and looked up at Elizabeth. His eyes showed a touch of fear, still, but his features schooled themselves into a calm reserve. "I'm sorry, babe," he said, raising his voice just slightly. "Got something I have to take care of right now. Be back by midnight, though."

Elizabeth raised her brows at him. "You'd better be," she smiled. "I don't want to ring in the new year alone."

They stood and picked up their coats. Sam leaned over to her and kissed her briefly. "You won't. I'll walk you out to your car. I can catch a cab to your place later." They started for the door, his arm draped around her shoulders.

Myles glanced at Tara. "You're on, 'Ruby'."

She took a breath and nodded, then headed for the bar.

* * *

&

* * *

_I should have warned Liz_, Sam thought with an inward smile as Tara passed them. If he hadn't known, he'd probably not realize it was her. _She looks great, though. _Their eyes met for just a brief moment, and it wasn't difficult to nod at her as if they had business later.

Elizabeth managed to not look too shocked, and it probably came across more natural than if she hadn't reacted at all. As they reached the door, though, the young man at the corner booth looked up at Sam expectantly.

_Oh, no… what do I do now?_ _How would Myles handle this? _Suddenly, the idea came to him, and he simply glanced at his watch, then met Kyle's gaze again and tilted his head first toward Elizabeth, then to the door. Kyle's eyes dropped in a subtle nod, and he went back to perusing his menu.

Sam held in his breath of relief until they were safely out in the lobby. Myles pulled him off to a small alcove. "Nice job, Sam," he remarked softly as he traded his blue silk for Sam's white long-sleeved polo. "And I'm glad you liked that leather duster so much that you had to have one. It's been kind of my trademark through this case."

Sam was still shaking a little. "You all are gonna be the death of me yet, bro. Why didn't you just _tell_ us where you were going to be so we could avoid it?"

Myles shrugged. "Couldn't. That whole 'classified' thing, you know. It's okay; just chalk this one up to Murphy's Law and let it go." He pulled the polo collar up a little, just as Sam had worn it earlier. "I have to get in there. I'm already a couple minutes late, but your little eye-exchange with Kyle will cover that quite nicely. Go out to the van; they're waiting for you. Best not to have a 'copy' of me running around while I'm in here, just in case there are extra eyes watching. They're out that way."

Elizabeth had been standing back, out of the way. As Myles stepped out of the alcove, he caught her hand and brought it to his lips briefly. "Love you," he mouthed silently.

CAREFUL, she replied in ASL. I-LOVE-YOU. She then took Sam's arm and whispered, "I'd better go out to my car, just in case. I'll swing around a couple of blocks up, then walk around the back way and meet you at the van."

They slipped out, while Myles squared his shoulders and sauntered into the bar.

* * *

&

* * *

"You're late," Kyle drawled as Myles slid into the booth. "Then again, if I had a looker like that at my disposal, I'd be late for a few things myself."

The narrowed gaze the agent gave him was only partially an act. "That 'looker,' as you so crudely put it, happens to be a very classy lady, and I'd appreciate it if you kept your comments to yourself. We have a business deal to discuss."

Kyle nodded. "Fair enough. You said you had a solution for us. For what particular problem?"

Myles leaned back and draped his arm across the back of the booth. "Considering the volume of stuff I've heard is coming out of your little 'appropriations,' it makes me wonder how you manage to get rid of the merchandise. It's too easily traceable."

The younger man looked at him for a long time before answering. "You have a head for this type of enterprise. You're right; and the boss has been looking into various ways of handling that little problem."

Now the Harvard grad leaned forward, his eyes that of an eager salesman. "How about I let you all borrow a friend of mine? She's been helping me solve that same little problem for quite awhile now, and for the right price I'm sure she'd be willing to expand her clientele."

Kyle laughed cynically. "What's your friend do? Magically turn gems into cash?"

"Something like that." He pointed to where Tara was sitting at the bar. "You see that woman? The one who looks like she belongs back in the sixties?"

Kyle glanced over. "Oh, yeah. The hottie who strolled in here a few minutes ago? Nice." The way he drew out the word had Myles burying the desire to plant his boot firmly in the middle of Kyle's shin under the table— with a considerable amount of force behind it. "So what's she do for you?" He grinned. "Besides the obvious?"

"She's a _business_ partner, you moron," Myles snapped. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And what she does for me is take the jewelry I bring her and re-set the stones in her custom designs, which she sells in her very lucrative shop for me and _no one is the wiser_. How's that for a solution?"

Kyle's one-track mind seemed to have finally switched gears, because he leaned forward with interest. "And you think she'd be willing to do the same for us?"

"As long as she's kept supplied with materials, she doesn't ask questions. Like you," Myles sneered slightly, "she has a very narrow world she lives in. Hers happens to be jewelry design. We won't dignify _yours_ by labeling it."

"All right, I get the point." Kyle leaned back. "Well, bring the lady over here and let's check her out." At the low growl starting from his seatmate's throat, he held up a hand. "I _meant_ to see if she's someone we can work with. My boss is very careful about who he lets in. You made your point already; I'll be nice to her."

"You'd better. I take good care of the people who work for me." Myles looked over again and caught Tara's eye. He subtly motioned for her to join them. _Here we go, partner,_ he thought._ Let's sell it first-class.

* * *

&_

* * *

Sam stepped into the van, and Jack motioned him to a seat. Tara was just walking over to join Myles and Kyle at the booth. She was wearing a wire, so Sue didn't have to read lips for them, but the cameras were positioned for her benefit anyway.

"Hey, Myles," Tara was saying. "You'd better have a good reason for messing up my New Year's plans. I had a major party lined up."

He smiled at her easily. "Have I _ever_ wasted your time, Ruby?"

"Point taken." She slid into the booth. "Who's your friend?"

"Kyle, Ruby; Ruby, Kyle. He's part of my newest little enterprise. Or," he amended as Kyle shot him a look, "I'm part of his. All a matter of perspective." Myles waved the waitress over and they ordered a round of drinks.

After their drinks arrived, "Ruby" settled in her seat; placing both arms on the table, she leaned forward. "So gents, exactly what part of this little 'enterprise' will I play?"

Kyle sat back in his seat. "Myles here tells me you're quite the designer of fine jewelry."

She tipped a smile at her "partner," then removed the necklace from around her throat. "You tell me."

The young man studied the intricate design for several minutes, even going so far as to pull out a jeweler's loupe to inspect the gems. Then he handed it back to her. "Very nice. Why don't you tell me the arrangement you have with your blond pal here?"

Tara shrugged. "He brings me stuff, I reset it, sell it on my boutique and we split the profits fifty-fifty. Not much of an arrangement in terms of complexity, but it works for us."

Out in the van, heads turned as Elizabeth slipped inside. "Sorry it took so long," she said quietly. "A car followed me out of the parking lot and for about three blocks. Figured leading them back around here was a bad idea." Jack nodded mutely, and she took a seat next to Sam, leaning over to whisper, "You okay?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. She could tell he was fairly relaxed at the moment, but there was a tension in his jaw that told her it wouldn't take a lot to get him started again. The psychologist laid a hand near his arm, ready to deal with him if things got dicey.

The conversation inside continued. Myles was saying, "...no reason Ruby can't take your inventory as well."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "And your cut is _how much_?"

The tall agent shrugged. "I could go for three percent. Call it a 'headhunters' fee, for finding you a designer."

"I see." The young man leaned forward, one hand sliding toward his waist. "And what makes you think we need _you_ in this little deal if we already have _her_?"

The click of a 9mm being cocked under the table sent Kyle's eyes very wide; he hadn't realized Tara had even moved to pull the gun out of her boot. "Because I don't work for you. I work for Myles. And if you value _your_ 'family jewels,' you'll put that gun right back in your belt."

Out in the van, Sam had leaned forward abruptly when Kyle reached for his gun. Elizabeth tightened her hand on his arm and put a finger to her lips. He glared at her, then returned his attention to the screen just in time to hear Tara. He held his breath as Kyle stared at her.

"What makes you think you can call the shots here, sweetie?" His voice was deadly calm.

She smiled sweetly. "Ten million dollars in gemstones gathering dust and screaming to every cop in this city, that's what," she replied. Then she tipped her head sideways at Myles. "He thinks I don't know what's going on. I do. And as long as I have quality supplies for my designs, I don't care. You want me, you keep him in the loop, because I'm only going to deal through him."

There was another long stretch of silence. Then Kyle slid his gun back into its resting place. "Suppose I can't argue with that logic. And we do need an outlet. I'll talk to my boss." He stood and dropped a few bills on the table. "I'll contact you," he said to Myles. "Two days."

He walked out, and after a tense twenty-second silence Bobby's voice came over the radio. "Ok, between the gymnasium Monday and this tonight, I don't ever want to get on Tara's bad side."

Laughter echoed between the van and the bar, and even Sam managed a chuckle, though he was considerably paler than he'd been a few minutes ago. But his expression was grave as he stood and pulled Elizabeth up with him. "Let's go, Liz. Get out of their way."

He was out the door before she could respond, and she could only turn and shrug at Jack and Sue before following him to her car.

* * *

&

* * *

_Sam Leland's house, Georgetown_

_Friday, 11:30 pm_

It was his own kitchen floor Sam was wearing a rut in this time. Elizabeth watched him silently, waiting for the inevitable explosion that was coming. She just wasn't sure how big the explosion would be.

"I was starting to think I was ready for this," he muttered, almost to himself, " I really thought I was, until that Kyle dude went for his gun. How can I do this? How can I face every day with her, knowing it could be the last one?" He scooped Glorfindel off the counter on his way by, absently stroking the cat as he paced. "I know that's not an everyday situation for her, but still… bad enough that I could lose Bro' at any point, I don't think I can do this…"

His train of thought was starting to spiral downward, and Elizabeth decided it was time to put on the brakes before he talked himself out of it completely. She opened her mouth to speak—

"Samuel."

A figure melted in from the shadows of the dining room, and a British accent broke through. Sam snapped around to look into the grave eyes of Gregory, his long-time butler and companion.

"Thought you were still up in Massachusetts."

Gregory didn't answer; instead, he walked up until he could lay a hand on Sam's shoulder and look deep into his younger friend's blue eyes. "There is not _one_ part of this life that comes with a guarantee," he said softly. "You cherish each moment as if it were the only one, you savor the ones that have passed, and you _keep moving forward_."

Sam stared at him for a several minutes; then Gregory stepped back and reached for his coat, which was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. "I stopped in for just a moment to make sure things were in order. I have an apartment to unpack." He turned and nodded to Elizabeth. "Good night, Dr. Dillingham. And a prosperous New Year to you."

She nodded back, and he turned toward the door. Suddenly Sam snapped out of his reverie and spun around. "Apartment? You're not staying here? I n—"

Gregory held up a hand. "I am still nearby. But this home will soon have a new mistress, I believe, and it's best if her touch is the primary one here. Samuel, you _need_ her. But first you need _you_. Good night."

Sam stared at the door for a very long time after Gregory left. Then he turned and walked silently into the living room, flopping down full-length on the sofa and laying Glorfindel on his chest.

Elizabeth followed, and leaned against the back of the sofa, her arms crossed. "Not exactly the New Year's Eve you had planned, was it?" she asked softly.

"You could say that." He scratched 'Fin around the ears. "And you're about to tell me he's right, and I can do this, and throwing away a relationship I've managed to stay in for this long and through this much is just…" He trailed off as she turned and he saw a flame in her green eyes.

"Just because you've sat through a bunch of 'shrink sessions,' doesn't mean that you can read my thoughts like you can your twin's." Her voice kept him silent, eyes wide, as she finished her thought. "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Sorry, Liz" he replied softly. "What were you going to say?"

"You're right, Sam. You _have _been through a lot this year. And I want you to remember that Tara's been right by your side through most of it, whether you were both here in DC or having to talk on the phone across a couple hundred miles. You still have a ways to go, though, if you're still at the point where your happiness, your _sanity_ is fully dependent on someone else."

She sighed. "That's something I can relate to, because at one point this past summer I couldn't even walk into my own house without someone there. Myles offered to let me just move in over at his place, in the guest room, since we were pretty much headed toward a permanent relationship anyway. But I knew it came down to this: I have to be strong _on my own_ before I can be strong _with him_. That's the only way I can deal each day with the choices I made when I started dating him, when I accepted his ring and agreed to marry him. That's why he waited as long as he did to propose."

She came around the sofa and sat near his feet. "I will say this, though: when you know you're at the point where you can stand on your own, don't you waste a moment in drawing her completely into your life. Because every moment _is_ precious, too precious to waste on hiding you feelings until you can present them what you think is a perfect way."

"So I need to wait until I'm sure I can handle life without her before I decide to take life _with_ her? Sounds a bit circular."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "I suppose it does. And probably a bit morbid as well. But what I'm really getting at boils down to this: Do you love her?"

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then a rather surprised smile lit his face. "Yeah. I do."

"Then I think you should tell her that tonight." She laughed again at the panicked look on his face. "Sam, it's three words. I think you can manage three one-syllable words. Next question: Do you feel that you're at a point in your life where, if the world were to fall down around you, you'd still be standing when the dust cleared? Just you."

He grinned slightly. "You mean, without the Nintendo?"

She nodded. "or 'Fin, or Gregory, or anyone else. Just you."

This silence stretched a little longer, as he tried to picture it. "I— I'd like to think I could. That's more than I could have said nine months ago."

Elizabeth smiled at him proudly. "You've come a long way." Then she sobered, and laid a hand on his arm. "Now, last question: Can you stand to walk away from Tara based solely on the chance that something _might_ happen to her one day? Because if you can't accept her for who she is and what she's chosen for her life, then it's not fair to lead her on any further."

Sam let his breath out slowly. "I—" He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Tara walked in, with Myles right behind her.

"Still five minutes to midnight," she said brightly. "We made Jack hurry up with the debrief. Did we miss any excitement?"

Sam stood up as they walked into the living room. He was silent for a very long moment, and he looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

Elizabeth reached for Myles' hand. "Come on; let's go over to my place and—"

"It's okay, Liz," Sam said softly. "Why don't you guys stick around? This will only take a second, and I think bro' needs to hear it, too."

"What is it, Sam?" Tara's dark eyes were wide and troubled. "I know Jack said you were a little wound up because of what happened during the meet…"

He placed a finger on her lips. "Shh. It's okay. I owe you an apology, both for Monday, and for tonight. I was… I've been holding on so tightly to you, to _all _of you, that I didn't realize it was blinding me to the fact that I'm okay now. I can stand on my own. It took the possibility of… losing you… to make me see that."

She started to say something, but he continued before she had the chance. "I know, the odds are slim of anything happening. But it's still a possibility, and having a front-row seat for it slammed it home, I guess."

Tara's eyes filled with tears. "Sam, if it's too much, I underst—"

"It's not." He put his arms around her and drew her close, reaching up to toy with one of the bead clips still in her hair. "Tara, I—" He paused; the blue eyes flicked toward Elizabeth for a split-second. He caught her nod and the silent "_three words_" on her lips.

_Tara. Not Lady MarioKart. Serious moment… I knew it… _"You _what_, Sam?" Tara's voice was shaky, and one tear had trickled onto her cheek. "Just say it, please."

Now he smiled and gave her his full attention. He brushed the tear away with his thumb, then let his fingers rest on her cheek. "I love you. I realized that tonight, too. I'm still not quite sure _how_ steady I'm standing, but I know I want you there with me, for the next minute, or the next thirty years."

She stared at him silently, as if making sure she'd heard him correctly. She'd been bracing herself all night for Sam to walk away, especially after things got tense with Kyle. Myles had tried to reassure her the entire drive over, but she had figured it was easier to start letting go before she had to face Sam. Now, she found she had to regroup in the opposite direction, and it was taking a few minutes.

Then she heard Myles laugh softly, and glanced over to see him looking at his watch. "You have one minute left before midnight, Tara. You should probably come up with _some_ response for him." He grinned. "And I might remind you that breaking my brother's heart would probably land you back in the gym— with _your_ imprint in the mat permanently."

His quip broke through her silence, and she grinned back. "In your dreams, 'Harvard'." Then she turned back to Sam, and her smile softened. She reached up and kissed him softly at the corner of his mouth. "I love you, too. For five minutes or fifty years, I can't imagine sharing my life with anyone else. Even if I have to put up with Myles as a brother-in-law."

There was laughter all around at that, and the chime on the grandfather clock in the hall sounded the midnight hour. Each of the couples drew together, as was tradition, and for a moment a quiet peace filled the room.

Then Sam turned and led them all into the kitchen, where they noticed that Gregory had left a bottle of champagne chilling and four slender wineglasses on the counter. "Hmm," he mused as he filled the glasses, "you know, 'Happy New Year' just doesn't seem to do it this time. Anybody got something slightly more eloquent to say?"

Three sets of eyes landed on Myles, and he laughed. "Who, me?" Then a thought popped into his head, and he nodded. "Actually, I do have a thought."

Sam passed the glasses around and eyed his twin, grinning. "Well, let's have it, bro. Astound us."

Myles slipped his arm around Elizabeth's waist and raised his glass.

"Here's to the end of the nightmares— and the beginning of forever."


	15. Ch 10: In Their Dreams

**Chapter 10: In Their Dreams

* * *

**

_Myles' home, Columbia Heights_

_Friday, January 14, 2005_

_8 p.m._

The evening was quiet; no case in the works, except the sting on the jewelry counterfeiters, which was on hold until Monday, when Myles would finally meet up with the head of the organization. Tara and Elizabeth had planned a "movie night"— girls only, popcorn, chick-flicks and pedicures— with Sue and Lucy. Jack and Bobby were at a hockey game, and D was home with his family.

Myles leaned back in the leather chair at his desk and stretched a bit. The book Elizabeth had recommended for his ASL study was open in front of him, and he let the new signs run through his mind a few times until he felt he knew them. _Bad enough I've let nearly three years go by without trying to meet Sue at least halfway… I won't make the same mistake with Connie. _

He knew Elizabeth and her sister were close, and he liked the intelligent, somewhat brash redhead. He laughed to himself as he remembered the conversation at the airport in Boston; he'd forgotten to ask Elizabeth if Connie really _had_ taken a piece of the silver tea service and swatted her mother with it. He wouldn't put it past her.

Now he stood, and took a few minutes to practice the new signs by incorporating them into sentences he already knew. Then he could practice them with Elizabeth; usage was the key to learning _any_ language well, but with American Sign Language it was essential. Too much trouble could be had by the slightest inaccuracy… _as Bobby discovered at Thanksgiving_. The team still teased the Aussie about that from time to time. Not wanting to end up in the same boat, Myles made sure he practiced with Elizabeth first— if he was going to get teased, he'd prefer it be one-on-one.

"You know what they say about talking to yourself."

Myles turned to find Sam lounging in the doorway. "When did you sneak in?" the agent asked with a raised brow. "I didn't even hear the door open."

His twin smiled mysteriously. "How do you know I haven't been here the whole time?"

"Because, ok or not, you've never been _that_ quiet for _that_ long in your entire life," Myles laughed. "You hungry?"

"Could eat." Sam followed him out into the kitchen. "Quiet around here tonight. Got a few minutes?"

"More than a few." Myles pulled sandwich makings out of the refrigerator, along with a couple of bottles of water. He then grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard and handed one to Sam. "Something on your mind?"

Sam perched on one of the stools, talking as he put together what had become family legend as the "Sam Stack." "Actually, I need a little insight into one of your co-workers."

Myles grinned. "And which co-worker would that be, as if I couldn't guess?"

"Ok, ok," Sam laughed in return. "Look, Valentine's Day is in like, a month, and I was sort of thinking it would be a good time to maybe pop the question to Tara."

"What question?"

Sam threw a pickle chip at his twin. "You're in too good a mood tonight."

"No such thing," Myles replied. "So, you're really going to propose. That's great."

"Yeah, but I want to really do it up right." Sam paused in his construction project and leaned his chin in his hand. "Something that will be the stuff of her dreams. I mean, it'd be way easy to just go for broke and spend a fortune on everything I can think of, but I'd rather do something that speaks to _her_, uniquely. Any ideas?"

"Hmm." Myles thought about that for a minute. "She and I don't generally get into conversations of this nature, Sam. You'd be better off asking Elizabeth, or Sue or Lucy."

"How'd you know what you were going to do with Liz?" He was back at building his sandwich again.

Myles brought his own plate around to the other kitchen stool and sat down. "Actually, that was easy. I knew I wanted to do as much as I could to erase the nightmare we'd been through. That was a re-creation of the dream I kept having; turning it into something romantic and _happy_ seemed the best way to… take the last step I needed, in more ways than one. Otherwise, I was afraid I was going to have to dig up my rosebushes."

Sam laughed. "Heaven forbid."

"It would have been easy enough to just take her out to dinner, or ask while we were walking somewhere, or any number of traditional settings. But making it personal, for both of us, I think made it that much more special."

"That's what I want to do for Tara." Sam perched a slice of bread atop a tall, rather wobbly, sandwich. "Hey, speaking of the stuff of dreams, have you given any thought to what you want to do for your honeymoon? I mean, that is pretty much the groom's sole contribution to the wedding plans, right?"

Myles laughed. "Not if _my_ bride-to-be has her way. I've toyed with a few ideas, but nothing's jumped out at me."

"Well," Sam replied, trying to decide the best angle from which to attack his sandwich, "start with this: pretend for a minute that the sky's the limit. Yes, I know that rhymed, sue me. What would be your dream for it?"

Myles suddenly eyed him warily. "Why?"

"No special reason," Sam said smoothly. "Just humor me. If you could plan the honeymoon of her, and your, dreams, what would it be?"

* * *

&

* * *

For the sheer fun of it, Myles had taken Sam at his word and started spinning out the plans he'd make if he had unlimited resources for a honeymoon. It would help him come up with something similar within his price range later. He'd gotten lost in it for about an hour, with Sam pressing him for details and generally egging him on.

"…and then maybe we'd—" A flash of white in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to find Sam smoothing out a napkin in front of him. Another one was set just above it, with Sam's bold handwriting all over it. "What are you doing?" Myles asked. "Taking notes?"

"Yeah." Sam looked like he'd just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Why?"

"Oh, no special reason."

Myles advanced on his twin, a suspicious and slightly panicked look in his eye. "Sam… what are you cooking up in that brain of yours? Because if it's what I think it is…"

"And if it is?" Sam replied easily, leaning back against the counter. "What good is my bank account if I can't use it for other people's dreams as well as my own? Now, where were we…?" He glanced back down at his notes.

Myles stared at Sam as if he'd completely relapsed. "You're not kidding, are you? Sam, this is… it's too much. I am not going to let you—"

"Bro, I already thought about it, and I can't think of anything else I'd rather do for you guys for a wedding present. So what's next?"

Myles wasn't quite ready to surrender just yet. "Sam, no, I—"

"Look." Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "How often do you plan on getting married?"

Myles blinked. "Just the once, obviously."

The smile that lit Sam's face melted whatever further protest his twin would have made. "Then shut up and keep dreaming."

* * *

&

* * *

_Tara's Apartment, near Glover Park_

_Friday, 10 pm_

"I don't know why I bothered to do this," Elizabeth said with a smile. "It's not like anyone's going to see them in January."

Sue and Lucy had gone home; they had early plans tomorrow. The psychologist was seated on the floor, putting a coat of clear polish on her toenails so "Autumn Splendor" would last more than two days.

"You never know," Tara replied impishly. "We could have a warm spell." She was stretched out on her sofa, absently picking at a bowl of popcorn. She popped a handful into her mouth. "Tha', an' Myles shoul' like it."

Elizabeth laughed. "Like he notices. I don't think his eyes have ever made it clear down to my feet. Still, I suppose it's some form of secret feminine power to know that if the opportunity arises, even my toes are stunning."

A giggle escaped Tara as she stood and wandered over to her desk. "You know, if it's secret feminine power you want, I have an idea." She pulled a sheet of body jewel designs out of a drawer and waved them at Elizabeth. "Walk on the wild side. Heart, star, flower, sun; nothing too extreme."

"You're kidding." The psychologist's eyes were wide. "_Me_?"

"What?" Tara replied, her expression darkening a little. "It's beneath the rules of high-society? Forgive me."

The tone of her friend's voice caused Elizabeth to draw back in surprise. "I didn't say that, Tara. I just… it's just not something I had ever considered. Admittedly, my mother would have a heart attack if she ever found out, but I don't care about that. Here." She held out her hand for the designs. "Let me take a look, and get up my nerve while you tell me what brought all this on."

Tara walked over and sat down on the sofa, handing the stiff paper sheet to the psychologist. "I know you _say_ it's not important, Liz, but I've seen you cringe at the mention of your mother and I watch you play the same game the rest of them do. It may not be important for the same _reasons_ as the rest of them, but it does matter to you. And to Myles, and probably to Sam as well. I don't know how to fit into that world, never will, and it scares me to death to think that I could mess it up for Sam. He's come so far, made so much progress back to his family, to the life he was born to…"

"And the fact that you've been at his side the entire way back should tell you something. Here, let's try the small heart. I'll work my way up. What do you think— shoulder, or ankle?" She held out the sheet.

"Shoulder," Tara replied after a moment's thought. "You have nice shoulders. And it seems more daring."

"Daring is good, right?" Elizabeth laughed at the expression on Tara's face. "Hey, give me a break; I'm trying, here. You do realize that I'm going to have to explain this to Myles the next time I wear something with spaghetti straps. You think he'll recover from the shock?"

"Oh, a little revolution now and then is a good thing." Tara said solemnly, peeling the backing off the tiny design. "It'll be fun to watch him stagger around at work, though."

"You're enjoying this just a bit too much, but I love it," the psychologist laughed again. "Here we are, doing something totally off-the-wall and positively adolescent, and you're taking it as seriously as if there was a terrorist attack to be thwarted by it. You have no idea how much your friendship adds to my life, Tara Williams. It'll be even more fun when we're sisters-in-law."

"Here, turn around so your back's to me, and move your shirt so I can put this on." Tara waited while her friend did so, then asked quietly. "You really think he's going to propose? I mean…"

"Why wouldn't he?" Elizabeth replied. "After what happened two weeks ago, what makes you think he's going to run away now?" Her brows went up as a thought occurred, and she turned around as far as she could without moving her shoulders. "Lori really got to you, didn't she?"

Tara shrugged as she pressed the jewels onto her friend's soft skin. "No. Well, maybe. A little." Her breath came out in a rush. "Okay, yes. A lot. I mean, I grew up trying to keep up with my brothers, playing baseball in a sandlot, and doing odd jobs to pay for my ballet lessons. It's a completely different world, Liz. I'm not exactly wired to play 'lady of the manor,' or whatever you call it."

"And just because of that you think that Sam would turn around and choose someone like Lori over you? Tara, your world isn't so different from the one Sam grew up in. You were up there at Christmas. The sandlot simply has an ocean behind it. His family is one of the most down-to-earth groups I've ever met, in their tax bracket."

"But that's just it, Liz. That tax bracket _makes_ a difference, because they can't imagine having to work that hard for something they wanted, just like I can't imagine having it handed to me with the snap of a checkbook—"

"This doesn't have a thing to do with marrying 'above your station,' does it, Tara? Not really. Is that heart in place?" When Tara nodded, Elizabeth turned around to face her. "You're more afraid that Lori's right about Sam not having 'played the field;' that he'll marry you and then decide he's missed out on all the society debutantes. Aren't you?"

"I—" Tara started to protest, then decided it was useless. "What do I have to offer him, anyway? I mean, he's a multi-millionaire with the family connections to take him anywhere. He'll be bored senseless inside of a month."

"And the fact that he's been with you for more than _nine months_ already is irrelevant? Come on, Tara. If Sam were going to get bored, he'd be there by now." The psychologist turned her head to try to see the result of their handiwork. "And you have plenty to offer."

"Right. I can throw a hell of a tailgate party, but a luncheon for a bunch of senators' wives? Or a Christmas party where three-quarters of the guests have pedigrees longer than Secretariat?" Tara swiped at the tears starting to spill over. "It's not me, Liz. It's just not who I am, and I'll never be able to do it."

"No, it's not who you are." Elizabeth grasped her friend's hands and focused an intense gaze on her. "And it's not who he fell in love with. For heaven's sake, Tara, you're not marrying Nelson Rockefeller. Sam doesn't expect all that from you. You're sitting here putting yourself down over something that doesn't _exist_. He loves _you_— the down-to-earth, sweet cyber-goddess who packs a 9mm and beats him regularly at MarioKart. You let him be who he is, Tara; you don't label him with expectations. Why would he even _want _to do that to you?"

She slid her shirt off her shoulder and pointed to the tiny heart glittering there. "Besides, if you can get me to wear one of these— and I actually like it, by the way— then you think I'd let you endure a ladies' luncheon all alone? No way, _amiga_. I'll make sure the silver is all in the right place."

Tara laughed. "Just get me able to converse about something besides computers and the Redskins, and we'll get somewhere."

"As a matter of fact, Senator Kersting's wife is a huge 'Skins fan, and she'd be more than happy to monopolize the conversation with you." Elizabeth squeezed her friend's hands. "You don't have to do all that society stuff; you can do anything you want to. Quit the Bureau and stay home if you want, but he'd _buy_ you the Bureau if you asked him to." She laughed. "Then you can be Randy's boss."

A lethal grin spread over Tara's face. "Ooh, I like that idea."

Now Elizabeth bored the point home. "Tara, I know people who haven't a shred of savings to their name who are perfectly happy, and people who have Sam's net worth and beyond who are miserable. I _also_ know people like Sam and Myles and their family who happen to be in a higher tax bracket than most and don't let it affect what's really important in life. Look, have you never wondered what Myles is doing in a government-salary job when he could be raking in a Fortune-500 motherlode like Brad and James?"

"I—" Tara stopped and thought about that for a minute. "I guess. Especially when he gets griping about something. I've never met anyone who could raise ranting to an art form like he can. It does seem…strange, given the opportunities I'm sure he had growing up."

"He does it because it _matters_ to him. There's purpose in it for him, a noble purpose that you all share. He could care less about the financial wheeling and dealing; he knows it because it's practical to have a good financial foundation, but it's not fun for him like it is for his brothers. Even Sam; have you ever watched him on the phone when he's working a deal?"

"Yeah." The petite agent laughed. "It's better than his video games. And it's not just about the money for him; I know that. I've seen him take risks on business ventures simply because he can help someone out who has an idea he likes. Doesn't always work out, but I don't think I've ever heard him complain."

"That's right," Elizabeth replied. "There's a freedom in being able to do that. And that's what drives Sam, now that he's not hiding anymore. That's _his_ purpose. He's a philanthropist in the truest sense of the word; he does because he wants to. That it often brings him a tidy little profit is a nice sidebar, but it's not the motive for him. And right now, he wants to make you happy, for the rest of his life. All you have to do is figure out what's 'fun' for you, and he'll go along or _make_ it happen for you."

Tara smiled. "No kidding. I already feel like a princess. Can I be a princess and a 'spy' at the same time?"

"You can be anything you want to, kiddo."

"Cool." Tara laid back on the couch again, grinning broadly. "Then I want a hidden camera in my tiara."

* * *

&

* * *

Elizabeth was just pulling into her driveway when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, then smiled as she answered. "Hey, Sam? You making sure I'm home by curfew?"

He laughed. "Something like that. How was the girls' night?"

"You mean, did Tara let slip any hints that would give you ideas as to how to pop the question?" She laughed softly at the stunned silence on the other end of the line.

"How do you _do_ that?"

She laughed again as she glanced across the street and saw him in the front window. "I called Myles on my way home, and he told me you'd been driving him crazy with questions. Or, I'm psychic. Take your pick."

He shook his head at her, grinning. "So, did she?"

The psychologist smiled. "Tell you what… Monday night, while our significant others are taking down that jewelry ring, you and I will sit down and plan out the proposal of her dreams."

"You're on. 'Night, Liz."


	16. Ch 11: Danger Zone

**Chapter 11: Danger Zone

* * *

**

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Monday, 17 January 2005_

_2 p.m._

"I don't like it." Dimitrius leaned against Myles' desk and crossed his arms across his chest. "There's no way for backup to get anywhere close, and there's too many places for things to get screwed up."

"I know," the blond agent replied, "but we don't really have a choice. If I start making waves now, just before we meet the leader of this little band of misfits, they'll get suspicious and we'll lose all the headway we've made. We'll be fine."

"Spoken like the fearless warriors I've come to know and love." Howie Fines waltzed into the Bullpen like he was Robert Mueller himself. "So, buddies, we ready to take down the bad guys and free our fair city of unsavory characters?"

Myles stopped the hand that was about to land on his shoulder with a glare. "_We _are ready; _you_ are late."

"Things to do, people to see," Howie replied easily. "Just making sure no one's wise to our little sting operation."

_Including you_, Myles almost said, then decided not to. Sarcasm was completely lost on the snitch, so it wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he sat forward in his chair and indicated the blueprint on his desk. "This is the warehouse where we'll be meeting Kyle tonight. According to him, the 'big boss' will be there as well. We're supposed to pick up our first 'inventory' for Tara-slash-Ruby, and set up a schedule for the rest of it. As soon as we make the trade, Jack and the others come in and clean up. Simple and painless."

D chuckled. "The last time you said 'simple and painless,' you ended up purchasing yourself for $1200."

Howie was intent on the building layout and missed the quip. "Wow, this place is huge. There's like about two hundred places for someone to lay in wait for an ambush."

"'Lay in wait'?" Myles regretted the comment the moment it passed his lips.

"Yeah, lay in wait. You know, hide, conceal yourself, hole up, lie low—" Howie stopped abruptly as Myles glared at him again. "What? You're not the only one who ever read Shakespeare. Hey, do I get a badge this time?"

"No!" The two agents said it in unison.

"You know, you all are getting really good at the stereo yelling. Sounded like one voice this time. Fine, no badge."

"I'll get you a badge," Myles muttered under his breath. "With the word IDIOT across it in big red letters."

"You guys are so funny. Makes me feel like a part of the team when you razz me just like you do Bobby."

Myles glanced up at D, who was trying not to laugh, and signed a phrase. He moved his right "U" hand back and forth along the extended fingers of his left hand, also in a "U" shape. He then held an open "5" hand up close to his face and moved it away from his head while closing his fingers together. Then he circled his right "S" hand over his chest.

"Levi, my man!" Howie turned as Sue walked in with the Golden Retriever, and stepped away from the two agents to greet the big dog.

D looked at Myles. "'Train go sorry'? What's that?"

The taller agent laughed. "It's a Deaf idiom Elizabeth taught me the other night. Translates roughly to the English 'missed the boat,' or 'over the head.'"

"That's Howie, all right. Let's gather the troops and get this laid out."

* * *

&

* * *

By 8 pm, they were set up and as ready as they were going to get. Surveillance cameras were set up in adjacent buildings, aimed through the windows that ringed the top portion of the warehouse. It wasn't close enough for lip-reading, but it would at least give them a basic idea of what was happening.

"Are you sure they won't pick that up?" Howie eyed the thin gold chain Myles had around his neck, complete with St. Christopher medal that concealed a wire. "I mean, it'd be a shame to lose it. Gives you a very hip look."

"They won't pick it up, because it's not activated right now. And thank you so much for the fashion review." The tall agent glowered at him. "Tara will turn it on _after_ they've searched us. You just worry about looking properly subordinate, and leave the rest to us." He nodded toward Dimitrius, who was hiding a grin behind his turned-up coat collar. "We should be in and out of here in less than twenty minutes, if everything goes as we expect."

"Yeah, well, it's the _unexpected_ stuff that makes me nervous," Howie said softly as they entered the warehouse.

The space was well-used; high industrial shelf units soared nearly to the ceiling, casting long shadows in the dim light; if anyone was waiting for them for purposes _other_ than the meeting, they'd never see it coming until it was too late. As the two agents and the snitch approached an open area, Kyle stepped out from behind one of the shelf units.

He glanced at his watch. "Timely. Good trait. Stop right there, please, gentlemen. Arms out to your sides, if you would."

As they halted, Kyle motioned two of his associates out of the shadows. None of them could have been over twenty-five, Myles noticed, and the one approaching D couldn't have been more than eighteen. Electronic wands were used to check for listening devices and cameras, then the young men stepped back.

Myles moved over to lean against a metal table, running a hand through his hair before settling with his hands in his pockets. It was a pre-arranged signal, and he felt the slightest static jolt as the wire in his medal activated. "So, Kyle; where's this genius you work for? He decide we weren't worth his time?"

The young man smiled. "Oh, you're very much worth his time, Myles. Just not quite how you expected." He snapped his fingers.

It was like being hit by a pallet dropped off a merchant ship; suddenly people dropped from the tops of the shelf units and within seconds, Howie and the two agents were senseless on the ground.

Kyle walked over to Myles and ripped the St. Christopher medal off his neck. He ground it into the cement floor with the heel of his boot. "Take him," he ordered his cohorts. "Leave the other two." He tossed the medal onto D's prone form.

"Nice try, Feds," he sneered. "Too bad it's going to cost you plenty. Simmons don't take kindly to moles. And if I ever find that sweet little jeweler again, I'll make sure she dies happy. Old saying still applies: Never trust anyone over 30."

* * *

&

* * *

In the surveillance van, Tara watched in shock. "Jack! It's a trap! Operators down!"

She heard Jack give the order to move in, and silently cursed the luck that had forced the teams to be farther away than usual. Beside her, she heard Sue gasp as Kyle and the others hauled Myles over to a grey van waiting in the loading area of the warehouse. The doors slammed shut, and the van took off, right through the steel rollup door.

"Grey van, headed north on M Street!" Bobby's voice rang over the radio. "License number Echo Tango Charlie one-five-one!"

"They've got Myles in it!" Tara cried.

Suddenly, a second van crashed through another loading door, followed by a third. They were identical to the first one. Bobby stared in shock from the SUV— the license numbers were identical as well. He took off, noting that two other teams were already in motion as well. "SAM 3-2, we are in pursuit. Suspects heading north on M. Keep your eyes on them; all the plates are the same. If we lose sight of them, we'll never be able to track them down. SAM 3-3 is in the lead vehicle."

But suddenly the van that had been in the middle position shot forward, passing the lead vehicle. Thankful that traffic was light, Bobby watched in dismay nevertheless as the three vans began a "shell game" maneuver; within twenty seconds, he could no longer tell which van held his colleague and which two were decoys.

"Bobby! Report!" Jack's voice sounded in his ear.

"SAM 3-2; they've pulled a bloody bait-and-switch on us, Jack!" His heart dropped as he watched the vans turn off in three different directions. "SAM 4-1, take the van on 15th, SAM 4-6 the one on 14th. I have the lead vehicle."

The next ten minutes seemed like an eternity as they wove through DC streets, the van showing little regard for the many "One Way" signs. At last, the Aussie's team managed to corner it as it crashed through a chain-link fence surrounding a car lot. Several new Lexus sedans paid a high price for being on the perimeter of the lot.

Bobby shot out of the SUV, sidearm drawn and rasied. "FBI! Step out of the vehicle _now_ with your hands on your head!"

A young man of no more than eighteen got out of the van, an eerily smug grin on his face. The Aussie spun him around and shoved him up against the van, just as one of the other members of his team came around the back of the vehicle.

"It's empty, Bobby."

"Bloody h—" He cut the curse off mid-way. "SAM 3-2: we do _not_ have him. He's in one of the other vans."

Jack wanted to punch one of the cartons lining the shelf units at the warehouse; D was sitting up, rubbing at the back of his head, and Howie was still out cold. "SAM 4-1, report."

"SAM 4-1: we have the second van. It's empty, too."

The dark-haired agent ran a hand through his hair. "SAM 4-6: you have the vehicle holding SAM 3-3. Report."

There was silence on the radio for a moment. Jack slapped his hand on the shelf unit. "SAM 4-6, report!"

"SAM 4-6..." Frustration sounded out loud and clear in the agent's voice. "We lost them. We've got a four car pile-up here. Better get Emergency Services moving. Repeat; we lost them."

At the warehouse, four sets of eyes met in dismay. One of their own was missing, and they had no way of knowing which way to turn first to find him.

* * *

&

* * *

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Monday, 8:00 pm_

Sam leaned back and stretched, a wide grin crossing his face. "This is gonna be fun. You sure she's not going to think it's corny?"

"I think she's going to love it," Elizabeth replied, jotting down the last of their notes. They'd spent the last two hours planning out a proposal, down to the last detail. "You ready for dessert? There's a praline cheesecake in the fridge."

"Liz, you are an angel. I'll get it." He stood up, working a kink out of his neck as he wandered into the kitchen. His voice echoed back to her. "So what do you suppose our respective secret agents are doing about now?"

"I make it a point to not think about it," she called back. "Saves my stress levels. If there's something I need to worry about, someone will let me know. Hey, do you want just one color of roses, or do you want to make it a variety?"

His lack of response made her look up. "Sam? What'd you do, fall into the cheesecake?" When there was still no reply, she got up and went into the kitchen.

Sam was standing at the kitchen island, his hands braced on the counter and his eyes shut tight. After a moment, he straightened, but his face was still pale. Elizabeth placed a hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "Everything just kinda went fuzzy for a—" He trailed off, his eyes focused on the far wall. "Something's wrong…Myles is in trouble."

Her hand tightened on his arm. "What?"

"Serious trouble, Liz…something went wrong. I can feel it – nothing concrete, but just enough to know he's in trouble…"

She led him back into the dining room and sat him down, then took the seat next to him. "Tell me what you felt."

He took a breath. "Well, we've been working on those barriers. The twin-speak is pretty strong again, and we had to do that to protect both of us, because of the nature of his job. But just now... the wall was there, then it wasn't. For a split second, I got this surge of... not exactly fear, but definitely a negative, 'oh, shit' adrenalin rush." He smiled slightly at the raised eyebrow she aimed at him over the colorful metaphor. "Sorry, just relaying the message, which means it was _big_ for him to use it. Now, everything's kind of blank... kinda like when you're on the phone, but the person on the other end got called away for something."

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "So what does that mean? He's unconscious?"

"Be my guess." He crossed his arms and leaned them on the table, resting his head on them. "I _really_ don't like this aspect of being twins. The headache's a killer."

"I can imagine. Stay still for a second." She went to her bathroom and grabbed some ibuprofen for him, her mind racing. _They've got it under control; don't go off half-cocked just because Sam has a line in. If something were really wrong..._

_Oh, please. If you don't call, Sam will. You know that. Better you, than him freaked out; it'll take five seconds to check out._

She walked back to the dining room and pressed the ibuprofen into Sam's hand.

Elizabeth took a breath, weighing what she was about to do. She'd done some consulting for the FBI in the past few months, so she had the clearance rating to do this, but she wasn't sure Jack Hudson would appreciate it. Or Ted Garrett, for that matter. Then she picked up her cell phone and dialed a number.

"Manning."

"Bobby, it's Liz. Before you say anything else, just listen for two seconds. Sam's here, and he says Myles is in trouble. Is that true?"

There was silence on the line for a second.

"How…?" The Aussie's voice was incredulous. Then he lowered his voice. "How strong is that bond, anyway?"

"Pretty strong; you know that," she replied, a bit puzzled. "Why?"

"Hang on." She heard him call Jack over, then their conversation was muffled as Bobby apparently placed his phone against his shoulder. A minute later, Bobby's voice came back on the line. "Jack says for you two to meet us at the Bullpen. Hurry up."

* * *

&

* * *

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_9:00 pm_

"It's not something I can just pull up on command, Jack!" Sam's voice had an exasperated edge to it. "As far as I can tell, he's still out cold, wherever he is."

The last thirty minutes had been filled with even more frustration. Jack Hudson didn't feel especially comfortable around things he didn't understand, and Bobby's wild notion of trying to find Myles through this "twin-speak" was nothing short of desperate, as far as Jack was concerned. The fact that it didn't seem to be getting them anywhere didn't help.

"Tara, anything on the GPS in his cell?"

"It's a brand-new phone, Jack," she replied with a sigh. "He picked it up just before we headed over to the warehouse, and the GPS wasn't activated yet."

"What!"

"Randy said he was at his budget limit for the period, and the new one starts just three days from now. Myles didn't push the issue this time; after all, how often do any of us use the feature?" Tara glanced at Elizabeth, watching to see her friend's reactions. The psychologist was seated at Myles' desk, toying with a pencil and absently staring at his blank computer screen.

Jack made a mental note to strangle the Office Services VP the next chance he got. "So we have _nothing_," he muttered. "Lovely. The one time he chooses to pick his battle with Randy..." _Maybe we need to have that little seminar on "paranoia on the job as work ethic," too, when we get him back here..._

"When" was the only outcome Jack would accept.

* * *

&

* * *

"_Let peace begin with us"... how many times am I going to be put to the test on that in a year's time? _Elizabeth fought the urge to get involved; consultant or not, she was too emotionally involved, and her expertise wasn't needed in this instance anyway. _Best to just sit quietly and stay out of the way._

She could feel the frustration in the room; Jack didn't understand the limitations— or any other part, for that matter— of the bond Sam shared with his brother, and Sam was doing all he could and knew it wasn't enough for any of them. A bureaucratic glitch had made sure the team had no way to find Myles, and the DC area was too big to just start searching randomly.

_I made a promise to him. Wherever it leads, I will walk this path. I will allow him to be who he must be. _Sam's dilemma with Tara had gotten her thinking about moving the wedding date up; she didn't want to spend any more time just engaged to Myles, could care less about all the frills and nonsense their relatives were debating over. But rushing it would only be giving into her fears for him, for them, and she hadn't spent the last six months overcoming fear just to let it take over her life again.

A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. O-K YOU? Sue was watching her with concerned eyes.

Elizabeth sighed. YES, she replied silently. THINK ME. QUIET THINK BETTER NOT FRUSTRATION ADD.

Sue smiled. YOU ALONE WORRY NOT. CAN'T LOSE MYLES NOW SINCE HIM LEARN PAH. DEAF VICTORY BIG WOW.

It had the intended effect, and the psychologist laughed softly. VICTORY MORE BIG HIM. WORLD NEW OPEN. HIM GOOD.

"All right, folks." Jack's patience was clearly at its limit. "I don't care how we do it, we have to come up with _something_, because I don't feel like waiting around here for DCPD to phone in about a b—" Glares hit him from all sides, and he put a lid on his thought in a hurry. "Go get on the phones, on the street, chase down every one of your snitches, and see if there's _anything_ floating around about these guys. If this is just a tactic for a 'private' meeting we likely have a good cushion, or he'll contact us as soon as he can. If it's not, then time is of the essence. Move."

* * *

&

* * *

_Monday, 10 p.m._

"Oh, my head… What the...?" Myles put a hand to the back of his head, half-expecting to find it sticky with blood. To his relief, there was only a fair lump, but no broken skin. He sat up slowly, letting his headache adjust to the change in orientation. He felt like he'd just gone 18 holes with Otis Washington— as the golf ball.

_What happened? Stupid question, Leland, it's obvious what happened...the more pertinent question is, where am I now? _He glanced around, trying to get his bearings. The surface beneath him was cool and smooth; a brief swipe of his hand found ridges spaced about a foot apart. _Vinyl tile..._

The room was very dark, but there was enough moonlight through the cracks in the boards covering the windows to silhouette what looked like desks, student-style. _A school... an old one, it would appear... doesn't narrow it down much, but it's something._

He stood, wincing at the pain that lanced through his head once more. A quick check confirmed what he'd expected; his firearm and cell phone were gone, as was his FBI identification. _Wonderful. One step from the top, and we get made. I wonder what tipped them off... and where are D and Howie?_

For a moment, he thought he felt Sam brush at his mind, and quickly brought the barrier back up; the last thing his twin needed was a front-row seat for whatever was about to transpire. As a general rule, the bad guys weren't too happy about finding an FBI agent in their midst. The only variable was how confident they were of disappearing after _removing_ said agent from their midst. That factor alone would determine how far he could push in formulating a way out.

Right now, he had to find a way out of this room and try to find his colleagues. Stepping carefully in case there was debris on the floor, he made his way over to the door and tested it by pulling on the handle, then pushing. A slight movement and a metallic _clank_ told him the simple handle was barred somehow, tightly enough that he couldn't simply work it out by rattling the door. The window in it was standard tempered glass with a wire screen through it that had been invented for institutional buildings since the beginning of time. It was nearly impossible to break, even with one of the desks.

Suddenly, Kyle's face swung into view, startling Myles. The young man had apparently been standing guard just to the right of the door, out of the sight-line. Three others, heavily armed with semi-automatic rifles, stepped into view as well.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," Kyle taunted as he swung the door open. "The boss wants to see you. Right now. Let's go."


	17. Ch 12: The Roundabout Route

**Chapter 12: The Roundabout Route

* * *

**

"Liz."

Her eyes swept up from the desk surface she'd been contemplating. Sam's voice was hushed, even though at the moment the Bullpen was deserted; everyone was out trying to come up with a lead. Lucy had been in and out a dozen times already, coordinating everyone's findings and making sure they'd have everything they needed once a lead came up.

Sam's eyes were lit with hope as he leaned forward in Bobby's chair. "He's awake."

She bolted upright in the chair. "Can you figure out—?"

He raised a hand to cut her off. "Nope. I got a flash of 'awake' a few minutes ago, along with a feeling of disorientation— his headache's worse than mine was— then he must have caught it and put the wall back up."

Elizabeth thought about that for a second. "He has no way of knowing what's going on, and he doesn't realize we're here with the team."

"Right." Sam's shoulders lifted and fell in a deep sigh. "And because of that, he's going to _keep_ that wall up, and there's nothing I can do."

"So why don't you just _call_ him, Doc? At this point, what can it hurt?"

Sam and Liz both turned quickly; everyone had pretty much forgotten that Howie was still there, since he'd been leaned back in Jack's chair with an ice pack over his eyes since they'd returned to the Bullpen. Now the snitch had moved over to lean his hands on the spot where the agents' desks met.

The psychologist looked at him steadily for a moment. "Howie, if I call his cell phone, which has likely been confiscated, what makes you think I'll get to talk to _him_?"

The devious little grin that crossed Howie's face made her nervous. "Because if you can keep whoever you get talking long enough, we can track down where the phone is networking from." He straightened and put his hands in his pockets. "I happen to have watched Tara do it enough times; it should be a snap."

Sam grabbed his arm before he could get two steps. "And you think Tara isn't going to hang you up by your thumbs if she comes back and finds you at her computer? _I_ don't even go near her alter-ego."

Howie glanced at him. "You know, it's well-and-truly weird to be staring 'Myles' in the face and not hearing that proper Harvard vocabulary. Kinda refreshing, though."

"Don't mess with me, Howie," Sam replied easily. "I know all about you, from both my brother and Tara, and I can con you right back if I have to. You're not going to distract Tara by screwing up her computer, and that's final."

"Maybe we don't need to trace it." Elizabeth had been thinking hard all through their little exchange. "_If_— and I'll grant it's a big if— we can manage to talk to Myles, he'll probably be able to discreetly drop some clue to where he is, if he knows. If we _don't_ get a chance to talk to him, then I'm sure he can come up with an explanation as to why I called in the first place. Howie's right— at this point, I don't think it can hurt."

* * *

&

* * *

Kyle prodded Myles into what used to be the music room of the school; several wide steps at one end of the room created tiers for once-budding musicians to see their conductor. He motioned the agent to a chair, then made a show of pulling something out of his jacket pocket. Myles heart skipped once as he realized it was his own wallet, and his face darkened as he watched the younger man remove a photograph and smirk.

"You know, this lady really is something else. How'd you manage to snag her, anyway?" He waved the photo of Elizabeth in the air as his comrades snickered.

Myles refused to give Kyle the pleasure of a reaction. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to go through other people's things without asking first?" he asked evenly.

"Well, it obviously wasn't your stunning repartee." Kyle was rifling through the rest of the wallet's contents. "No picture of the hot little number I met in the pub? I'm disappointed."

Myles refrained from responding to the slur against Tara; instead, he started saving up each comment, fully intending to shove them each right back down this immature twit's throat the first chance he got. Instead, he glanced around the room, feigning a boredom he certainly didn't feel. "You could have come up with better accommodations."

Suddenly, he spotted a music stand lying on its side about five feet from his chair, the inexpensive kind used in music rooms clear up to the hallowed halls of Harvard. A small gold-colored paper label read "Property of Lincoln Elementary, Arlington." _I know where this school is; I've driven past it on the way to Grandmother's. _It took all his control not to react, but rather fixed a steely glare on Kyle.

The young man gave it right back to him. "I don't think you're in any position to be griping about the digs, Fed," he hissed. "You likely ain't gonna be around to see that pretty little dish of yours again."

"Kyle, grow up already." A new voice, polished even through its youthful tenor, brought heads around.

Myles' attention riveted on this new arrival, lounging in the doorway; the reactions of the others told him this was the leader, the guy they'd been waiting for. _All right, here we go. Time to build up a little psychology profile._

The man was perhaps 20, but he had one of those faces that would guarantee he'd look forever younger than he truly was. Medium height, slight of build, with dark-framed glasses that gave him a scholarly air, he looked like he could have walked off any Ivy League campus that afternoon. _He probably did_, Myles thought sourly, _They just don't screen applicants like they used to._

"Well, well, Agent Leland. It would appear that we have a bit of a dilemma. I do hope Kyle and his cohorts weren't overly rough on you. He tends to get a little too _involved_ in his work." The young man glared at his lieutenant.

Myles repressed a smirk; it seemed he wasn't the only one who felt like making Kyle a permanent part of the architecture. "My colleagues?" he asked evenly.

"I'm sure they were collected by the rest of your team," was the reply. "We felt that too many witnesses to our little operation would be detrimental, so we left them and played a little game of hide-and-seek to ensure no one followed you." He strolled over to a chair, turned it around and straddled it, folding his arms and leaning on the back. "How rude of me. I am Simmons. I run this lucrative enterprise, but I'm sure you already figured that out."

_And the fact that you're telling me all this lets me know that you have no qualms about leaving me here dead when you all vacate this place, which you will surely do now unless the team can find me. Lovely…_

The ringing of a cell phone broke into his thoughts, and Simmons' introduction. The young man's hand went automatically to his hip, but Myles realized with a start that the ring tone was _his_. He looked around, finally noticing it sitting atop the dilapidated piano.

Simmons rounded on his lieutenant. "You idiot! Why'd you leave his phone on?" Snatching the cell off the piano, he looked at the caller ID, then lanced a glare at Myles. "Who's E. Dillingham? One of your fellow agents?"

The reaction was impossible to conceal, as shocked as he was. _What on earth is Elizabeth calling me for? She must know by now…_ "She—" His voice caught as an idea flashed into his mind, and he had to swallow before he could finish the sentence.

Simmons had a .45 in his face before Myles could even blink twice. "I don't think you want to mess with me at this point, Leland. Who is she?"

"She's my wife."

"Your wife? You expect me to believe that when the ID says _Dillingham_ instead of Leland? You don't strike me as the type to marry an 'emancipated woman.' Try again, quickly if you please." The gun moved fractionally closer and Simmons cocked the hammer.

Myles stared him down, though his heart was going like a jackhammer. "She's a clinical psychologist with an established practice, so she kept her maiden name. We've only been married a couple of months. She knows that if I'm working I'll simply answer and tell her she has the wrong number. If I don't answer it, she'll get suspicious." He glanced at Kyle, a smug smile touching his lips. "And before you ask, I don't generally wear my wedding ring when I'm undercover, and November to January doesn't make for much of a tan line."

The phone continued ringing; Simmons stared at the agent for another long minute. Then he hit the "Send" button. "Special Agent Leland's new answering service," he sneered.

In the Bullpen, Elizabeth sat up in Myles' chair quickly. "Who is this?" she demanded.

Simmons chuckled. "Your husband's new secretary. He's… unavoidably detained at the moment."

_Okay, Liz. Think. For some reason Myles told them we're already married. Just play along._ She tried and failed to keep a tremor out of her voice. "Then I suppose I shouldn't expect him home anytime soon?"

"No," was the reply. "In fact, I'd extend that 'anytime soon' considerably. He's in a fair amount of misfortune right now, and I really don't see any satisfactory way out for all parties involved. I suppose you like to speak with him?" Simmons eyed Myles with a gleeful expression, taunting them both.

Elizabeth ignored the looks she was getting from Sam and Howie, and played her role exactly as she was expected to. "Please," she said, bringing a note of desperation into her voice. _He wants to hear me beg, I'll make him happy, just as long as he puts Myles on the phone…_ "We've only been married—"

"Two months, yeah, I heard." Simmons looked at Myles for another long moment. The agent didn't move, but he allowed a hint of longing to come into his eyes. It was exactly what the young man wanted, and it brought a wide grin to his face. "Tell you what, Dr. Dillingham-Leland. I'm in a generous mood. And since it's highly unlikely you'll be seeing your man alive again, I'll grant you a brief goodbye."

"Oh, thank you!" The sob in her voice combined with the fire Sam saw in her eyes made him laugh silently.

At the school, Simmons motioned Kyle into position with his gun, and stepped toward Myles with the phone held out. "I think you know what _not_ to say," he snapped, "because I'm going to be listening the entire time. I'd really hate for your new wife to hear the sound of you grinding out your last breath after the roar of a gunshot."

Myles nodded mutely. _Love, I hope your intuitive skills are up and running, because this is the only chance we've got of still making it to that altar. And, if this works, we'll deal with why you're involved when I get home.

* * *

&_

* * *

_Where IS everyone?_ Elizabeth knew that whatever was said in the next few minutes would be crucial.

"Sweetheart?"

"Myles, are you okay?"

A soft laugh was the reply. "Well, I suppose that would depend on your perspective."

Just then, Bobby and Tara walked in, engrossed in conversation. Elizabeth grabbed the Koosh-ball Sam had been toying with and threw a perfect fastball that caught the Aussie square in the chest. As he looked up, she motioned quickly and then fingerspelled M-Y-L-E-S. His jaw dropped and they both came running. Sam filled them in with a hurried whisper as Elizabeth turned back to the phone.

"Bad timing, huh?"

Again the ironic laugh. "You could say that. Now I'm starting to wish I'd never given up teaching." His voice was so casual she almost missed it.

She paused slightly. _He was never a teacher. What's he trying to tell me?_ She grabbed a pencil and the legal pad from his "in" box and quickly wrote _teacher_. "I would imagine, from the timbre of the voice I just heard. Missing the old place, huh?" Bobby was at her side now, his ear up close so he could hear as well.

"Basically. Ms. Holmes is looking pretty good about now." He'd placed the slightest emphasis on the words "basic" and "Holmes."

Her pencil flew across the paper._ Basic... simple... Holmes… elementary! Teacher! An elementary school! _A quick glance at Bobby had his agreement.

"I can see why she would," she replied gently.

"Yeah, her and Maggie Grandin, who was instrumental in getting me hired there."

The pencil flew again. _Maggie...Grandin...Grand...'Grand Maggie'… okay... _Again, a brief emphasis, this time on "instrumental." _Instrumental...Grand Maggie... instrumental…instrument! The violin! A music room! But which school?_ She looked up at four sets of very wide eyes, all showing the same spark of excitement.

"Guess I should let you get back to work, huh?" She knew she had to keep it short or his captors would get suspicious.

"Yes, I think that might be wise. Oh, would you remind Bobby that he still owes me a five?"

Bobby gave Elizabeth a puzzled look and shook his head. She jotted down _five…$5?_

She sighed. "All right, my love. Take care, please."

Another brief laugh under his breath. "I'll try. I love you, princess." The phone clicked off, and she stared at it for a moment.

Then her head snapped up to Bobby again. "He never calls me princess."

"It's another clue," Bobby replied. "Has to be. Five? Wait..._Lincoln's_ picture is on the five-dollar bill! Tara!"

"Lincoln Elementary, coming up." She was already at her laptop, with Sam looking intently over her shoulder. Howie, wisely, had returned to Jack's chair and just watched the action with quiet interest.

"There's three within a twenty-mile radius, Bobby."

Elizabeth thought for a minute. "Are any of them on or near a street named Princess, or Princessa, or something to do with royalty?"

The tap of keys. "Yes. It's been closed for several years, but Ted Lincoln Elementary is at the corner of 25th and Princessa, in Arlington."

Sam pointed at the map on her computer screen. "That's right on the route to Grand Maggie's. He's driven past it a hundred times or more."

"That's got to be it," Bobby said, already dialing his cell. "Jack! We've got a lead...meet us at 24th and Princessa in Arlington." He paused just long enough to give Elizabeth's arm a squeeze. "You're probably gonna get yelled at when we get him back to you, sheila. But thanks – nice job."

She smiled. "Just bring him home safe, ok? Then he can yell at me all he wants. Sam and I will get out of your way now."

"Good deal." The Aussie grinned, and leaned closer to murmur in her ear. "Do me a favor? Take Howie with you."

* * *

&

* * *

Simmons sighed as he made sure the phone was off, then tossed it back atop the piano. "I'm disappointed," he said, turning back to face Myles. "Newlyweds, yet such a calm farewell. Not much of a romantic, are you?"

"She knows the kind of work I do, and the kind of people I'm forced to deal with." Myles folded his arms across his chest and stretched his legs out to cross at the ankles, giving the young man a contemptuous glare. "We don't lay our relationship out in front of any two-bit hood who happens to want a little entertainment. She knows how I feel, and that's enough."

"Touching," Kyle chimed in. "And if you think any part of this operation is 'two-bit,' you're dumber than you look."

Myles smirked, and looked back at Simmons. "Good help is _so _hard to find these days."

Simmons just rolled his eyes and turned to Kyle. "Start getting everyone organized. We need to filter out of here slowly, so no one gets suspicious. Take these guys and divide up the stash; keep track of who has what, because if I find any of it missing when we reach our new destination, _your_ head rolls first. Do I make myself clear?"

"Totally, boss." The fear in Kyle's eyes reinforced his loyalty. "What about you? I ain't keen on leaving you here alone with this James Bond-wannabe."

The leader smiled. "Then tie him up before you leave. We have a few more items to discuss. Let me know when things are underway."

Kyle grinned as he grabbed a rope and bound Myles' hands behind his back, looping the rope through the chair at the same time. "You know," he murmured, pulling the rope tighter than he really needed to, "I hope Simmons gives me the satisfaction of being the one to plant a bullet right between your eyes before we leave. It would _totally_ make my day."

The agent turned his head so he was inches from the young man's face. "You don't get out much, do you?"

Kyle drew back a fist, until Simmons' voice stopped him short. "Kyle, I gave you an assignment, didn't I? You can play later, if I decide there's time. Get moving." He waited until the room emptied, then straddled the chair again. "It really is a shame we have to be on opposite teams, Agent Leland. I think we'd make a formidable team."

Myles grinned amiably. "Aww, you're just saying that because you got saddled with an idiot for a lieutenant. How'd you figure out we were onto you, anyway?" He wished whole-heartedly for a recorder right now, but he wanted to know just the same.

"I've known for some time now." Simmons leaned on his crossed arms once more. "I knew when Artemis disappeared. He was too engrossed in the idea of 'relieving those of their treasure who are too weak to bear the burden' to just vanish. The only explanation was that he'd been arrested. And, since _you_ were his contact…"

"Then why the game? You had to have known the risk you were taking. Why not simply pull up stakes then?"

There was a cold glitter in the brown eyes. "You just said it. The _game_. You see, there's a certain rush in knowing you're playing an FBI agent for a fool. The world's greatest law-enforcement agency… tell me, how _did_ you end up there?"

The slur touched a nerve, but Myles refused to let him see it. "Just lucky, I guess. And what makes you think there aren't fifty other agents outside right now, just waiting for the chance to bust in here and shut you down?"

Now Simmons stood and walked up to the agent, leaning down into his face. "Because," he hissed, "we've got detectors set up all around the school grounds and at strategic locations on the way here. Your friends would set off a dozen alarms before they got to the gate out there. You see, Agent Leland, I don't like to lose, and I don't start an enterprise without covering _all_ my bases. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a relocation to supervise. I'll send Kyle back just before we leave; he _so_ wants the opportunity to bid you farewell _personally_."

The door swung shut on silent hinges.

* * *

&

* * *

_Monday, 12 midnight_

Fortunately, the FBI wasn't exactly a slouch in the area of "detector detecting;" Bobby turned to Jack and tossed him the wire-cutters. "That's the last of it, Jack. We have a clear path to the school grounds."

"Tara?" Jack put the tool in one of the storage bins in the control center van.

The petite agent was at her laptop, collecting data from the scanners D and Sue were using to survey the school grounds from just outside. "Same type of stuff, Jack. Motion detectors spaced evenly along the fence, around windows and doors… someone wasn't taking any chances."

The unit leader sighed. "Too bad we can't just hit the whole place with an EMP and take everything out in one shot."

Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, and every piece of electronic equipment within a quarter-mile radius. Electromagnetic pulses are great, but you can't control them very well. _Fortunately_," he added with a grin, "you have on your team a master of stealth and electronic wizardry. You find me the control panel, we'll be in before you can say 'didgeridoo.'

Jack rolled his eyes and was about to comment when D's voice rang across the radio. "We've got movement, Jack. Looks like the beginning of a convoy. They're bugging out."

"That pretty much confirms that they've been tipped off," Jack replied. "But we still don't know where Myles is, or if the ringleader is there. D, tell SOG to wait until the truck gets out of sight of the school, then very quietly take them. If any more vehicles come out, do the same thing. Let's round the minions up first."

"You got it."

D's voice continued in Jack's ear as he turned to Bobby. "All right, 'Houdini,' let's see you work your magic. Otherwise, you might have to break in a new desk-mate."

"Don't tempt me," Bobby grinned. "Tara, you find their power source?"

"Yup." She pointed at the blueprint of the school laid out next to her computer. "Right here, by the south entrance."

"All right," Jack said. "Get teams in position to go in as soon as the juice goes down. We know Myles is, or _was_, being held in the music room, here. We move in ten minutes."

* * *

&

* * *

One nice thing about old schools— things tended to be in even greater disrepair than when kids were running around. Myles had found the break in the metal chair support about thirty seconds after Simmons had walked out of the room, and now he worked the rope across it as his mind raced through the situation. The idea of having to be "rescued" sat about as well with him as having Kyle come back and put a bullet in his head.

_The team's out there._ He was sure of that; the conversation with Elizabeth couldn't have gone better, and he knew she'd have been on the phone to _someone_ as soon as Simmons cut them off. _And I'll surrender to Randy before I sit here and wait for D, or worse, Bobby._

After a few minutes, he heard the distant roar of a truck pulling away from the school. Given the estimate of the load Simmons and his group had already taken in, and a ballpark speculation of their numbers, Myles figured there would be no more than three fair-sized trucks. If they'd been using a semi, a single trip would have done it, but Simmons had made it a point to tell Kyle to divide up the take; that meant they were using considerably smaller vehicles.

Nylon rope was harder to saw through than cotton, but a sharp metal edge worked for either; ten minutes' total work had him free and pulling the ropes off his hands. Myles was about to retrieve his gear and try to break the door open; then he stopped.

_Hold on a second. Kyle's coming back here before they bug out completely. And the team will be in here at some point soon—if I'm out wandering the halls, the odds increase exponentially of getting myself shot by mistake. Better to just sit tight and take down Kyle when he gets back._

The fact that it would give him immense satisfaction to personally shove the halfwit up against a wall and read him his rights was a thought Myles tried not to dwell on too heavily. It smacked of a personal vendetta, and that was dangerous. That he almost _hoped_ Kyle would take a swing at him was a thought he chose not to entertain at all.

Still, a sly grin couldn't stay off his face as he pictured it.

* * *

&

* * *

Kyle paused at the door to the music room, savoring the sight before him. Agent Leland was seated in the chair, arms bound, his head dropped onto his chest in a posture of defeat. _Make way for the rising generation, "Gramps;" Simmons says youth and skill are the means to success these days._

He pushed open the door, a broad grin lighting his face. "So, Agent Leland. Ready to admit defeat before you meet your Maker?"

Myles lifted his head slowly. "At least I won't have to put up with your atrocious attempts at wit anymore."

"You know, it's really a shame that your precious wife will be all alone now." Kyle sauntered up to Myles' side and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Tell you what; as soon as we get settled, I'll head over there and pay my respects to the grieving widow."

Instead of the growl Kyle expected, he heard a low chuckle instead. Still, the blue-grey eyes were filled with anger as he replied. "My wife goes _with_ me to the shooting range, Kyle. And she's quite competent in defending herself." _And that won't be a fabrication just as soon as I get home._

"That'll just make it all the more challenging," the young man replied with a smirk, "And I do love a challenge." He brought his gun up to Myles' temple. "Goodbye, Agent Leland."

He never even cocked the hammer before a flash of movement had him flat on his stomach with a knee planted firmly in his back and his own gun trained on him. Myles leaned over slightly and murmured in Kyle's ear as D's team came through the door.

"You know what they say, Kyle: 'Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill every time.' _You_ are under arrest."

* * *

&

* * *

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Tuesday, 15 January, 6 am_

He should have gone straight home to get some sleep himself, but found himself in her driveway before he'd even realized it, and let himself in with his key. He watched her for a moment, asleep.

He'd been ready to lace into her, until the debriefing told him what had _really_ happened. Now he was more determined than ever to make sure she could take care of herself if something similar ever happened again. But he couldn't bring himself to even be exasperated with her right now, not when they'd come so close yet again to losing everything.

Elizabeth stirred as his fingers drifted across her face. "Mmmm… hi, love," she murmured softly, her eyes still closed. Then the green eyes flew open; she turned over, and gasped as she saw him. "Myles?"

He ran his fingers through her dark hair, smiling. "Good morning, sweetheart."

She sat up and flung herself into warmth of his embrace. He took her by the shoulders and kissed her gently, savoring her for a long moment. Then he drew back, and his hands slid to her arms as they tightened over her skin. The blue-grey eyes held an edge of fire.

"Don't you _EVER_ pull a stunt like that again, do you hear me?"

Her smile told him she'd been expecting this reaction. "Myles, I was seated _at your desk_ when I made that call. I never truly expected to get through."

His brows furrowed. "What were you doing in the Bullpen?" He'd already heard it all from Bobby, but he wanted to hear it from her as well.

Elizabeth sighed. "_That_, my love, is a bit of a long story." She slid over and made room for him next to her, leaning back against the headboard. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, and I'll tell you all about it."

His frown softened into a sly grin. "The only reason that's a safe move is because you opted for flannel pajamas last night." Tossing his overcoat and suit coat on the nearby chair, and removing his shoes, he settled himself and gathered her against his side. "So, enlighten me."

Fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder as he laughed softly. "So I have _Howie_ to thank for my continued sojourn on this planet. I don't think I can handle that." His voice was soft and drowsy.

She laughed as well. "Just try not to think about it. Now, I need to get up and get ready for a very full schedule today. You sound exhausted; do you think you can make it home awake, or would you rather stretch out here and save me having to make the bed?"

There was no answer; Elizabeth looked up to find him already asleep. Carefully extricating herself from his arms, she moved aside and let him relax down onto the pillow. She drew the quilt up over him, and brushed her hand across his hair as she gently kissed his cheek.

"Sleep well, brave knight," she whispered. "You've earned it."


	18. Ch 13: You Are My Home

**Author's note:** I had way too many people begging for this, and then it begged to be written...

* * *

**Chapter 13: You Are My Home

* * *

**

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Monday, 14 February 2005_

_5 p.m._

A shower of red foil hearts brought Tara's head up fast from the program she was debugging— had been working on for the last month, in fact. It hadn't exactly been a _slow_ month, just no "impending doom" scenarios. FBI "business as usual" tended more toward tamer stuff, fraud and environmental violations, bureaucratic nonsense that meant a lot of legwork and paperwork, but little adrenalin. _Though, after the past year,_ she thought with a wry smile, _all of our adrenal glands could use a recharge_.

Now she looked up into the twinkling green eyes of her best friend and laughed. "You know, I'm starting to think it was better when you weren't a consultant. You couldn't sneak up on me."

Elizabeth laughed in return and tossed another small shower of hearts on her. "Not having to be escorted does have its advantages. What are you working on, or is it classified?"

"Nothing too major," Tara replied. "It's a spyware program that Tech was having problems with, so they asked me to take a look at it." She rolled her eyes. "I think it was originally written by Jim Carrey."

A deep chuckle penetrated the conversation as Myles came over to give Elizabeth a quick kiss on the cheek. "Or Bobby."

"I heard that, mate." The Aussie was putting on his coat. "Lucky for you I'm almost late to pick up Darcy, or we'd have paper clips at twelve paces." Laughter rolled around the room as he went out the door.

"You here on a case?" Myles asked his fiancée. "Or could you just not stay away from me?"

The psychologist smiled up at him. "I can never stay away from you; you know that. But I do have another reason for being here. I came to kidnap Tara."

"Kidnap me? Why?" Suddenly Tara's eyes narrowed, and she aimed a glare at Myles, who had picked up a file from her desk and was now studying it intently. "What's he up to?"

"Who?" The fact that his eyes were on the page couldn't hide the blue-grey twinkle that appeared.

Tara grabbed the file and turned it around so that he'd be reading it right-side-up. "Your twin, that's who. I just realized you've been two steps from grinning at me all day today, and now Liz is here to kidnap me. It's Valentine's Day, and Sam is notorious for taking holidays to the next galaxy and back. What's going on?"

Elizabeth saved him by placing a hand on Tara's arm. "He doesn't know; or, doesn't know any more than his own part in it later. You're just going to have to trust me. Get your coat, and let's go."

Tara gave Myles one last glare, which he returned with a shrug and his most innocent look. Then she saved her work quickly and got her coat. She didn't notice the several sets of eyes following her as she did so.

Elizabeth turned and faced the group after Tara walked out. READY SEVEN PM. WE YOU MEET. Then she flashed an I-LOVE-YOU at Myles and hurried to catch Tara at the elevator.

* * *

&

* * *

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Monday, 6 pm_

"You're kidding me." Tara looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. "This is… _what_ is this all about?"

Elizabeth adjusted the veil that hung from the hat, so that it flowed nicely over the shoulders of the wool surcoat. "You just relax and enjoy a little escape into another time. I'm sure you already know where this is headed, anyway."

"I look like a poster child for the Renaissance Festival." She glanced down at the rich purple of the surcoat, and the cream of the dress beneath that peeked out where the surcoat buttons ended at her waist.

"You're supposed to." Elizabeth finished fussing with Tara's hat and stepped back, smoothing down her own dress, which was forest green and considerably less ornate than her friend's. "You're a medieval princess who's about to get swept off her feet by a dashing knight. _And_," the psychologist added, shaking a finger at the agent, "I was informed to get your most solemn word that the phrase 'This is too much' will not cross your lips tonight. Sam has spent a great deal of—"

"Money."

"— _thought_ on this, and he's having a blast. _Let him_."

Tara smiled shyly. "Like I have a choice. But okay— you have my word. So how come I get all the fancy embroidery and you don't?"

"Ladies-in-waiting should never outshine their lady." Elizabeth finished pinning her hair up under her own hat, and glanced at the clock. "Come on, we're going to be late. And Myles is letting us use the Jag tonight. I don't want to waste a moment of that."

Tara laughed. "Heaven forbid. Let's go."

* * *

&

* * *

_On the road between Georgetown and Silver Spring, MD_

_6:45 pm_

"Where are we going, anyway?" Tara asked. It had been thirty minutes since they drove out of DC and into the Maryland countryside.

Elizabeth glanced over at her. "This is supposed to be an evening of surprises. You really think I should tell you?"

"Okay, okay," Tara surrendered. "Just hush up and enjoy. I get it."

The psychologist laughed. "Ever hear of a place called _Le Château Royale_, in Silver Spring?"

"The Renaissance dinner theater place? Sure. I've always wanted to go there." Her eyes widened. "You mean…?"

"Sam bought the whole place out for this evening. Well, one of their big spaces, anyway. It's a popular place on Valentine's Day."

Suddenly, the smooth ride of the Jaguar was interrupted by a sputter in the engine. Within moments, the sleek sports car was silent on the shoulder.

"Uh-oh." Elizabeth popped the hood, and both ladies got out to look at the engine.

"You know anything about cars?" Tara asked her friend.

The psychologist sighed. "I can change a tire and my spark plug wires; that's about it. And I haven't had to do that in over a year, since Myles did it for me last time." She shone the flashlight into the engine compartment. "I don't even _see_ them in this piece of British engineering. We're only a mile from the dinner theater; it'll be a cold walk, though."

Tara opened her purse. "I left my cell phone at your place. Jack's gonna kill me if we get a call."

"You can use mine. They know we're traveling together." Elizabeth pulled her own phone out, and groaned. "Oh, no; my battery's dead."

They'd about decided to walk when a strange sound behind them made both ladies turn. Elizabeth smiled. "I think we just got rescued."

"Well, now, what have we here? A couple of damsels in distress?"

Tara _stared_; there really wasn't much that could strike her speechless, but the sight of Bobby Manning, in full medieval costume, swinging down from the driver's seat of an elegant horse-drawn carriage topped that list.

Her lips quirked as she tried desperately to restrain a laugh; the opulent white plume in his hat dipped and swayed into his face with every move. A dark blue tunic with silver embroidery, over a white shirt, fell to just below his knees, which were covered in…

She raised a brow; behind her, Elizabeth took one look at him and ducked her head back under the hood of the Jaguar, shaking with silent laughter.

"Love the tights." Tara cocked one hand on her hip and gave Bobby a wide grin. "And how much did you milk Sam for before you agreed to wear them?"

"They are _not_ tights." The Aussie's chin went up slightly. "The proper term for them is _chausses_, there's not a thread of Spandex in them, and I'll have you know they're quite comfortable." Then he dropped back into character. "Now, would milady care for a ride, or would you rather stay out here all night?"

Tara eyed the gilt carriage and shook her head in surrender. "I've already promised to not log a single complaint about this evening, so I guess we're riding."

Elizabeth smiled. "You go ahead; I'm going to call for a tow truck. Myles would kill me if I left his precious Jag out here unattended."

"How did I just _know_ you were going to say that? I'm sure I'll see you shortly, then." Tara grinned again and turned back to Bobby, waving an arm toward the carriage. "'Lead on, MacDuff.'"

He opened the door with a flourish and offered a hand to help her in. "It's a bit drafty. There's a heavy robe or cape or something in there you can toss around you."

She glanced at it. "As long as you swear to me that's not genuine ermine, I'll take you up on that."

Bobby chuckled as he swung back up into the driver's seat. "No animals were harmed in the production of this evening, I promise you. And consider yourself lucky my price was less than Jack's— he can't drive one of these things to save his life. Or that of any passenger."

The carriage took off down the road; as soon as it rounded a bend up ahead, Elizabeth turned and called softly toward the trees. "All clear."

"I'm really glad I had a camera for that." Howie was chortling as Elizabeth turned to see him and Otis walking out of the nearby woods. "I could make a fortune on e-Bay."

Elizabeth laughed. "Just undo your handiwork here so I can get up there before Tara does. We have more work to do."

Otis Washington reached into the engine and removed a small device from the carburetor; he then reattached the hose that had been disconnected when the tiny charge went off. "All set; you can tell Myles his baby's none the worse for wear. I ain't never seen anyone worry so much about a car before."

The psychologist smiled as she closed the hood of the Jaguar. "He doesn't get to use it very often, so he makes sure it's in perfect condition for when he _does_ get a chance. Now, I need to get going. I'll see you up there."

"Liz." Howie reached out to stop her. "Look, uh… thanks for including us in all this. Tara's a good friend."

"You're part of their team, Howie," Elizabeth replied. "Both of you. It's only right you should be here now. And that didn't come only from me."

* * *

&

* * *

_Le Château Royale Renaissance Center_

_Silver Spring, MD_

_7 p.m._

_Le Château Royale_ was known all along the Eastern seaboard as the finest Renaissance-style venue of its kind. As the carriage pulled up in front of the imposing stone castle, Tara realized that all the research she'd done in the hope of one day visiting it paled in comparison to the real thing.

She knew that it was not a replica, but an actual 14th-Century Scottish castle that had been moved, stone by stone, to its new home on a hill overlooking several acres of lush Maryland horse country. The catch phrase around the place, word had it, was _authenticity_; modern conveniences might be there, but they were carefully shrouded in period materials.

Bobby pulled the horse to a halt and jumped down to open the door for her; as he helped her down the single step, she looked up, awed by the stunning combination of dark grey stone and rich tapestry banners. "Wow."

"You don't know the half of it," the Aussie replied, the plume on his hat bouncing into his face again. "Wait'll you see inside. You're to go through those doors and up the stairway to the right. At the end of the hall, knock on the door."

"You're not coming in?" She looked a little intimidated at the thought of braving the place alone.

Bobby grinned. "I'll be along. Old Mingo here would rather go hang out in a nice, warm, stall."

"Smart horse," Tara quipped. "By the way, Bobby; I think the plume is supposed to go at the _back_ of your hat."

He glanced up at his hat, then reached up and flipped it around. "I thought it felt a little funny. See you in a bit." He hopped back into the driver's seat of the carriage and headed around one side of the castle.

Tara stared after him for a moment, a smile quirking her lips; then, shivering, she decided it was time to go see what else Sam had dreamed up. Her heart pounding, she pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

The entry was well-lit, but there wasn't a bulb in the place over 15 watts; it gave the feeling of candlelight very vividly. Tara walked up the stairs, marveling at the ancient strength of stone once again. She remembered to lift her long skirt slightly only _after_ she nearly tripped onto the hard surface.

The upper hallway was dimmer, the timbers hulking and left visible. At the end of the hall was a door, and she faintly heard music coming from behind it. Drawing in a breath, she knocked on the heavy door.

"Ah, Lady Williams. Welcome."

The door swung open to reveal Dimitrius, dressed in a dark red tunic and grey chausses; the embroidery on his indicated he was the "lord of the manor" she was visiting. He smiled and took her hand as she stepped into the room, then bowed over it in a very courtly manner.

"You grace us with your presence," he said, amusement in his dark eyes. "One of my knights has been most anxious for your arrival this evening."

She couldn't help but smile in return; her friends were all throwing themselves into this, and having a blast, by the reactions she'd seen so far. _May as well join them_, she thought. "I thank you, good sir. I eagerly await the entertainments this evening will bring."

"You won't be disappointed," he chuckled as he led her into the room.

A heavy wooden table was set with pewter and fine linens; platters piled high with fruit added color around white candles. Congregated at one end of the table were several chairs, and an animated conversation was going on in both speech and sign.

Donna Gans' dress matched the color of her husband's tunic; she rose as Tara came over to the table. "Welcome, milady," she said. "Will you take wine with us?"

Tara laughed. "Am I going to need it?"

"Most likely." Myles had risen to his feet when she came in, and now greeted her as the other men had, bowing very properly over her hand.

She stared at him as well. "You just walked off the cover of a _Harlequin Historical_, didn't you? I think this beats the 'Italian Beach Boy' look by a mile."

He raised a brow, and looked down at his jade-green tunic and darker chausses. "You think so?"

"Please, don't encourage him." Lucy grinned as she brought Tara a goblet of wine. Her dress was a deep coral that offset her ebony skin beautifully. "We've been subjected to a history lesson ever since he showed up."

"Lucy, let the woman at least sit down before you start griping," Myles answered amiably, extending a hand to seat Tara.

Elizabeth, Darcy and Sue had been chatting, and all three turned as the rest of the group resumed their seats. Tara eyed the psychologist with a smirk. "That must have been some fast tow-truck service, 'Doc.' Even if I was traveling under literal horse power."

"Yes… how _did_ Bobby do?" Darcy asked, smoothing the royal blue of her dress. "Will the poor horse ever be the same again?"

"I heard that, sheila." Bobby walked in with Howie and Otis right behind him.

Brows shot up all over at the sight of Otis in medieval dress, even though his outfit was a tame grey in contrast to Howie's burnt orange. The big man scowled. "Remind me to send your brother a bill, Myles. I don't do 'Holy Grail' unless there's some large green to be had."

"Aw, come on, 'Big O,'" Howie piped in. "Where's your sense of adventure? Besides, it's for Tara."

"My sense of adventure is limited to _this_ century."

"Otis, the only _green _you agreed to out of this little enterprise was hands-on concerning my Jaguar," Myles responded calmly. "And I assume that my car is in the same pristine condition I left it in?"

"Quit worryin' about your wheels. It's fine. I do good work, and leave no traces."

Tara leaned over to Sue. "Are you following any of this?"

The blonde woman smiled. "It helps that Liz is interpreting." She was dressed in a deep turquoise dress that highlighted her dark eyes.

Tara laughed. "I see even Levi got into the theme tonight." She reached over to pet the large Golden Retriever, who was sporting a bright red "archer" hat, circa _Robin Hood_. "Okay, so everyone's accounted for, except Sam, who I assume will be making a grand entrance at some point, and Jack. Where _is _our illustrious unit-leader, anyway?"

Several sets of eyes rolled toward the ceiling.

"What?" Tara asked. "Don't tell me Sam managed to get him into a suit of armor."

"No," Bobby replied. "In fact, ol' Sparky couldn't be persuaded to even go as far as the rest of us did."

PARTY POOPER, Sue signed with a smile.

"It wasn't for lack of effort on Sam's part," Myles commented. "I think he gave up when the 'incentive' was about to reach five figures. We all tried to convince Jack that if _Bobby_ could be persuaded that chausses wouldn't leave a permanent 'blight on his manhood,' it certainly couldn't be all that bad."

"But he is _here_, isn't he?" Tara didn't think her unit leader would go so far as to stay away completely.

"Yes, I'm here."

Jack Hudson walked out from behind one of the nearby tapestries, which apparently was hung on a screen that held it out from the wall. Modern dark trousers and a plain white oxford offset a shirt-length, unadorned black tunic; it could have been merely a fashion trend, except that he did sweep off a plumed hat similar to Bobby's as he entered. The plume was considerably smaller, though. "I was helping set something up for later."

Tara looked him over, then grinned at Sue. "How do you sign 'party pooper' again?"

HA HA, he signed in reply. "Just because I chose not to show off my legs…"

"Aw, come on, Sparky," Bobby teased. "You just knew you'd get shown up by the rest of us. Even Myles."

Laughter rolled around the room as Jack rolled his eyes. "_Since_ I chose not to dress up like a scene from _Henry V_, I volunteered to capture this evening for posterity." He produced a camera. "There's a video camera running, too."

Otis grimaced. "Dude, you take my picture with that, and I'll—"

"You will conduct yourself with the decorum befitting your attire." Myles glared at him. "And _we_ will make sure the only place the pictures end up is in Tara and Sam's photo album, thus saving your 'street image.' Fair enough?"

Otis said nothing and took a long drink of his wine.

"So _where_ is Sam?" Tara asked. Then she grinned. "Wait; let me guess. He's out slaying a dragon, right?"

"Chevalier Leland is on an errand at the moment," Dimitrius said mysteriously. "He should be joining us shortly."

"On a white horse, and scaling the castle wall, no doubt."

Laughter floated around at Tara's comment, and Elizabeth reached over to take Myles' hand as she answered. "The manager here wouldn't let him scale the wall; he thought about it. In the meantime, there's something he wanted you to hear before he arrived." She glanced over at Myles and signed READY?

The tall agent nodded, letting his breath out as if to gear up for something. Then he stood, drawing Elizabeth up with him, and stepped over to where a small panel was hidden behind a tapestry. The others moved their chairs back to form a half-circle, with Tara at the center of it. When they were settled, Myles removed a wireless microphone from a hook on the panel, along with a headset microphone, which he handed one to Elizabeth.

"Wait a sec," Lucy leaned over to Bobby. "He's going to _sing_?" Neither the Aussie nor anyone else bothered to answer her.

"Tara," Myles said, "Sam spent about two weeks going through my CD collection, looking for the perfect song to tell you what's in his heart. He knows that you've been afraid about the differences in your backgrounds, and that you think he's settling. He finally found a duet from the Broadway production of _The Scarlet Pimpernel_. This is his message to you." He pressed a button on the panel, and the strains of a ballad filled the room. After the introduction, his baritone mingled with Elizabeth's alto, and she signed the words at the same time…

_There is a child inside my heart tonight._

_No one can see that child but you._

_If I hold on to you too tight,_

_You understand, you hold me too._

_You are the one who reaches through the dark._

_When I'm afraid, you warm the air._

_And when I close my eyes to sleep,_

_You are my peace, you are my prayer._

_You are my home, _

_You make me strong._

_And in this world of strangers,_

_I belong to someone._

_You are all I know,_

_You're all I have,_

_I won't let go._

_Others may leave, but you will still be there,_

_Touching the tears that fill my eyes._

_When I am lost, you are my light._

_You are the love that never dies._

_You are my home, _

_You make me strong._

_And in this world of strangers,_

_I belong to someone._

_You are all I know,_

_You're all I have,_

_I need you so._

_I will not walk away from you!_

_I will not let you go!_

_You're the only home I'll ever know!_

_You are my home, _

_You make me strong._

_And in this world of strangers,_

_I belong to someone._

_You are all I know,_

_You're all I have,_

_You are my home._

_(You Are My Home_, from _The Scarlet Pimpernel)_

Tara's cheeks weren't the only ones wet when they finished; the silence that followed was a perfect backdrop for the soft footsteps that sounded behind them. Dimitrius immediately stood and took Tara's hand, drawing her to her feet. He then gestured behind them. She turned.

Sam Leland stood there, in the richly embroidered tunic of a count's own knight; the color matched his eyes and brightened the pale gold of his hair. Black chausses and boots completed the look. At his hip was a sheathed sword, the hilt jeweled with sapphires. A navy cloak, pinned at his throat with a silver clasp, only emphasized his height and the breadth of his shoulders. In his hand was a single red rose.

Her eyes were wide as he stepped around the group to face her, then dropped to one knee in front of her. "My lady," he murmured as he pressed a kiss on the back of her hand. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting long."

She took the rose he offered with a smile. "Not at all, Chevalier." The words caught in her throat slightly, and the rest came out in a whisper meant only for his ears. "Just long enough for me to fall in love all over again."

He looked up at her, the blue eyes wide with surprise, then melting into an affection she could feel on her skin. "Then my arrival is most timely. If I may, my lady, I have a small gift I wish to bestow on you."

Tara stroked his cheek tenderly. "I promised not to argue tonight, so you may."

Sam laughed softly, and pulled a box from under his cloak. It was too big to be a ring, unless he'd gone and purchased the Hope Diamond. Tara lifted the lid on it, and gasped. Then she glared at Elizabeth and started giggling. "You _didn't_," she said to her friend.

The psychologist shrugged innocently, then also started laughing as Tara removed a beautiful tiara from the box. Examining it closely, the petite agent discovered that the jewel in the middle wasn't a jewel at all.

WHAT? Sue asked, though hers wasn't the only puzzled look.

Bobby leaned over Tara's shoulder. "There's a camera hidden in it."

Tara caught her breath. "A couple of weeks ago, Liz and I were talking about how I could mesh my world and Sam's. She was lecturing me for worrying about it, and we decided that I could be both a spy _and _a princess. And I told her that if that was the case, then I wanted a hidden camera in my tiara."

"You have but to ask." Sam was still on one knee in front of her, and now he pulled a second, smaller box out of a pocket in his tunic; her face stilled, and she looked at him with such love that he had to swallow once before he could continue, his voice deep with emotion. "Tara, you truly are my home. Not only do you tolerate all my varied antics, you joyfully throw yourself in at my side or hold me until the façade goes away and I can function again. Whether you're creaming me at MarioKart or thwarting would-be terrorists and jewel thieves, you are fun, and caring, and a lady to your toes, and I can't think of anyone else I want to spend the rest of my life with." He opened the box to reveal a beautiful solitaire. "Will you marry me?"

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Tara found she could only nod.

"Excuse me?" Myles intoned. "I don't believe the rest of us heard that."

Her breath came out in a laugh, and she found her voice. "Yes, Sam," she said, pulling him to his feet. "Yes."

He swept her up in his arms and twirled her around as applause broke out. Their mouths met in a long kiss, and then he set her down gently. Slipping the ring onto her finger, he murmured in her ear. "So do you really want to run the Bureau?"

Tara laughed merrily, and kissed him again. "Nah. Replacing Bobby's cars alone would break us in a year."

* * *

&

* * *

After a dinner fit for royalty, the others wandered off to explore the castle, leaving Sam and Tara alone. He led her over to the small balcony that overlooked the grounds. A half-moon lit the countryside with a soft glow of silver that matched her tiara and the white-gold of her ring.

She slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him, the love in his eyes making her tremble slightly. "_You_ have a way of making my life so exciting. Thank you."

He smiled. "Like you need any more excitement. But you're welcome. I don't know as I'm completely ready for the big step, but I wanted you to know that I wasn't going anywhere."

"We can wait as long as you need," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere either."

He started to respond, but the words caught in his throat and he opted for a gentle, lingering kiss instead. Her fingers found their way into his hair, and he found himself getting a little lost until she pulled back gently.

His breath came out in a laugh. "Okay, I think I'm gonna quit giving 'Bro and Liz a hard time. I just figured out that this really can fry your brain."

Tara laughed. "Such a romantic."

Sam chuckled in return. "Hey, I'm still learning. You're the only lady I've ever had to practice on." He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. "And the only lady I ever _want_ to practice on. Don't you forget that."

"I won't," she replied softly. "Anyone who would go to _this_ length to convince me that I'm the only one in his heart deserves my trust. And you have it; I'm just sorry it took me so long."

"S'ok; hey, it took me twenty-some years to trust my own family again, including my twin. Besides," he added, brushing the tears from her cheek with his fingertips, "this was all worth it to see the look on your face, and Bobby in tights."

She laughed and tilted her chin up in an imitation of the Aussie earlier. "They're _not_ tights."

Sam's laughter echoed off the stone walls and down onto the grounds. "Yeah, right. We just told him that so he'd go through with this. Otherwise, he was ready to about murder me again. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to razz him."

He drew her close as they both laughed, enjoying the moonlight and the promises of many more joys ahead.


	19. Ch 14: Startling News

**Chapter 14: Startling News

* * *

**

_Hoover Building_

_Friday, 25 March_

_4 p.m._

Myles headed out of the Bullpen, battle-weary and bone-tired. The last seventy-two hours had been spent in a grueling "search and destroy" case involving a terrorist cell and a couple of mid-sized private jets headed for the Supreme Court building. _We never get into a routine,_ he thought as he waited for the elevator. His tie was draped over his shoulders, having been discarded some eighteen hours earlier. _We go for a month with nothing big, then spend the next six weeks putting out one wildfire after another. _

Fortunately, he now had something to look forward to at times like this besides an empty house and his own thoughts. Because Elizabeth had started consulting for the Bureau three months ago, and had a fair clearance rating, he now had not only someone waiting "at home" for him, but someone with whom he could "debrief" a bit. It gave him a sense of closure he'd often had trouble with in the past.

"Myles." Ted Garrett's voice echoed down the hallway from the doorway of his office.

"Yeah, chief?"

"There's something I think you should see before you leave. Come into my office, please." The big man had a strange look in his dark eyes, one that had Myles unsure if this was good news or bad.

When the tall agent reached his supervisor's office, Garrett motioned him into a chair. "This just came in from the AUSA's office. Marty Pavone called personally." He handed Myles a blue folder.

Myles read the short message on the front of the file, and looked up at his supervisor in shock. "This…is this accurate? A solid confirmation?"

Garrett nodded. "The report came into Marty's office from the prison a half hour ago. He's in the process of letting everyone involved know about it. But he faxed this to me first because he thought you might want to be with Elizabeth when she finds out."

"Yes… yes, I should be there." Myles got to his feet. "Thanks, Ted."

* * *

&

* * *

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Friday, 4:30 pm_

It was a beautiful afternoon, and somehow he knew he'd find her out back in her garden; it was one of the many interests they shared, and he knew that's where _he'd_ be if he'd had the choice.

He watched her fondly as she transplanted a flat of petunias into the border of one of her flowerbeds, the pink flowers offsetting the white-cream of daffodils already blooming. She was dressed in faded jeans and a wide-necked sweater that dipped off one shoulder as she leaned over to pat the soil around the new plant. Her hair was loose and cascaded halfway down her back, and the light breeze stirred it around her as if of its own will. Something sparkled as the afternoon sun added its light to hers, but he dismissed it as the light catching her hair.

Sensing his gaze on her, she turned, a smile lighting her face. "It's about time you all polished off the bad guys and they let you escape back into the light. I was about to send out a search party." When he didn't answer, and didn't step toward her, she stood, adjusting the sweater back correctly, and came over to him. "What is it, love? What—?"

Just then, her cell phone rang. "It's Marty Pavone." She slipped an arm around Myles' waist as she answered the call. "Hi, Marty, what's up?"

He watched her face as Marty explained why he'd called; her face went from brightly animated to almost deathly still in seconds, and he couldn't read what she was feeling. He tightened his hold around her shoulders and waited for the call to end.

After a few moments, she ended the call and replaced the phone at her hip. She looked up at Myles, and he nodded. "Ted told me just before I came over here," he said quietly. "Let's go sit down."

He led her over to the small deck and sat her down on the step, then joined her and took both of her hands in his. "Are you all right?"

"I…yes…I just…" Elizabeth looked up at him, her green eyes wide. "It's just a shock, is all. I mean, we were waiting for… are they _sure_ about this?"

"Yes," he replied, a light coming into his expression, "I called the prison myself on my way here. Graham had a meeting with his lawyer about another appeal, and something set him off. The guard had to shoot him before he killed his attorney. Graham was pronounced dead in the prison infirmary a short time later."

She sat back slightly, her breath coming out in a short sigh. "All this time. It's just… I had adjusted to the fact that it would be September before he was gone from our lives for good. Now, I guess it's just taking a few minutes to sink in that he's really gone."

Myles drew her close and placed a kiss at her temple. "I know the feeling. But I don't plan to dwell on it for very long. Do you still have that green silk dress?"

"You mean the one I wore the night that…? Yes. Why?"

He smiled. "Because if you'll give me enough time to go home and grab a shower, then meet me there at seven, I plan on taking you out on the town, including finding a tango club. I think it's time to overcome all of it, once and for all."

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment. "It doesn't feel right to be celebrating a death; even Graham's."

He stroked her cheek, and his voice was firm. "We're not celebrating his death; we're celebrating our _life_, and the release of one more fear."

She smiled brightly. "How did I ever survive without your genius in my life?"

Myles laughed. "We can discuss that later. You just go pull out that dress. I've missed it."


	20. Ch 15: On the Town & Into Dreams

**Chapter 15: On the Town & Into Dreams

* * *

**

_Leland Residence, Columbia Heights_

_Friday, 5:30 pm_

Elizabeth stepped out of her SUV and adjusted the shawl on her shoulders. Grabbing the small evening bag from the dash, she locked her car and put her keys away.

Suddenly, a low whistle caught her attention, and she turned. Tom Webber, out walking his dog, was staring at her.

"How _did _a pompous stuffed-shirt like Leland ever manage to snag a classy lady like you, Dr. Dillingham? You look terrific."

The psychologist smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Webber." She then raised a brow as the little terrier he was walking decided to "do her business" amongst the flower bed that separated Myles' house from his neighbor's. Webber glanced at her and pulled on the dog's leash, a gesture Elizabeth knew was only for _her_ benefit.

"Webber, take that poor excuse for a canine away from my rhododendrons, if you don't mind." Myles was coming down his front walkway, dressed in his finest dark suit.

Webber smirked. "_Antonio's _short a waiter tonight, Leland?"

Elizabeth repressed a smile as Myles angled his chin up. "At least _I_ don't resemble an overgrown hockey puck when I dress up, Webber."

"All right, you two," the psychologist laughed. "I don't have to go get Velma, do I? She's probably got a yardstick by her door she'd be more than happy to use on you both."

Both men wrinkled their noses at her in _oh-very-funny _gestures so similar she had to laugh again. Myles looked at his watch. "We're going to be late for our dinner reservation."

"Uh-huh." Webber smirked again, then turned back to Elizabeth. "Hey, Doc, um… I just saw like a five-second blurb on the news… about… well, you know." He paused, fully expecting his next-door neighbor to make a sarcastic comment. When it didn't emerge, he continued. "Just wanted to say I bet you all are glad it's really over, you know?"

Myles had already formed his retort, but it died on his lips when Webber finished. Instead, he blinked; after a beat, he said quietly, "Thank you, Tom. We are indeed."

"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth echoed. "That's why we're headed out tonight. One more fear buried—" She paused, her cheeks coloring slightly. "So to speak."

"Well, enjoy yourselves. You deserve it." Webber's grin came back. "Or you do, anyway, Doc." He headed down the street with his dog.

Myles glared after him. "So help me, I swear, he and Randy were twins separated at birth and raised by hyenas."

Elizabeth laughed. "Come on, quit griping. You promised me an evening out, and I fully expect you to follow through."

* * *

&

* * *

_Leland Residence_

_Friday, 11 pm_

He spun her around as they came in the front door, catching her in his arms and giving her a long, intense kiss that left her breathless. He buried his fingers in her hair, which had long since come out of its elegant twist.

"Now you see," he said quietly, a gleam in his blue-grey eyes, "I _knew_ that first tango wasn't just a fluke."

Elizabeth smiled brightly. "Lucky night. Although, if you keep dragging me onto the dance floor, I may just find my confidence. And Richard won't be shaking his head at me at our wedding reception."

"Sweetheart, I will take you dancing once a week if you like," Myles declared. "Even if it's at midnight here in our dining room." He moved toward the kitchen. "A glass of wine?"

"Sounds great." The psychologist wandered into the dining room; it had been awhile since they'd entertained, and the room was dark and silent. She walked over to the French doors and swung them open, then leaned against the doorsill as she gazed up at the night sky. A nearly-full moon bathed the warm spring evening in silver shadows.

_Done… it's all over, finally. We can concentrate on us now, on the future we will build together in this home, on all the wonderful things that will fill our lives with such joy… _She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to keep from floating away.

The sensation of warm lips on her cheek caught her breath; she sighed, feeling a tremor go through her as Myles slid his hands around her waist from behind. He trailed kisses down the side of her neck and across her shoulder, moving aside the thin shawl as he did so, until it slid to the floor at her feet.

"Mmmm… and pray tell, _what_ are you doing?" she asked dreamily, as his fingertips moved to caress her arm.

"Sampling the dessert menu," he chuckled softly against her skin.

She laughed and turned in his arms, poking a finger against his chest. "_You_ already had dessert, love. I seem to recall a fair-sized slice of tiramisu."

"Which I shared with you," he countered, capturing her hand from his chest and bringing it to his lips. "By the way, did you _really_ think that shawl was going to hide the jewels on your shoulder?"

She laughed. "Well, no; but I wasn't sure how you were going to react to it, so I decided to play it safe for as long as I could."

"I will admit, my first reaction was '_when_ did she get that,' followed rapidly by 'her mother's going to kill her,'" he replied. "But it's small, tasteful, and don't ever tell Grandmother Margaret I said this, but I think it's downright sexy." He slid his fingertips over the small heart, listening to her breath catch at his touch.

"I like it, too, but I don't really think it's me." Elizabeth smiled up at him. "I do suppose I could leave it on a while longer, since you like it so much."

He ran his finger down her nose, tapping the end of it. "Sweetheart, you could show up on my doorstep clad in rags and you'd still be the most beautiful woman on the Eastern Seaboard."

"Wow, you really got around in your bachelor days, didn't you?"

The twinkle in her eyes ignited his soul, and he gave in to the impulse. Burying his hands in her raven hair again, Myles lowered his mouth to hers, exploring every millimeter of her lips with gentle nibbles and soft kisses.

Elizabeth sighed, sliding her hands up his back and moving closer to him; he tasted of dark Italian espresso and the exotic mix of Cognac and sweet cream. She shivered as his hands slid over her shoulders and down her back, even as his kisses kindled a warmth that spread through her whole body. Bringing her hands around and up his chest, she wound her fingers into the gold of his hair and let her lips trail across his cheek to a point just below his ear where she could feel his pulse jump. A soft sigh escaped the back of his throat, and the thought that she was having the same effect on him that he was on her was intoxicating.

His hands were igniting a path along the sides of her ribs; though he stayed in the "appropriate" areas, the nerve endings were all connected, and she moaned softly at the sensations he was creating.

She was drowning in him; she knew it, and she didn't care. In spite of all her promises to herself, she knew that, tonight, she would willingly give anything he asked of her. Still, the soft baritone voice in her ear startled her:

"Stay with me."

He didn't realize he'd spoken it aloud until it was said. But when he pulled back to apologize, he saw total surrender in her emerald eyes, and his breath caught. For one insane, unguarded moment, he considered it. But he knew that regret would come as surely as the sunrise, and he couldn't bear the thought of it in her eyes.

He drew her back into a simple embrace, and rested his cheek against her hair. After a moment, he whispered, "I didn't mean it that way, truly. Stay in the guest room; I just want you here when I wake up in the morning."

Her eyes drifted closed briefly. Then she looked back up at him. "All right. I'd like that, too."

Myles stared at her for a long moment. "You would have…?"

She nodded. "Yes, love. I would have. Anything you would have asked of me." Tears brightened her eyes as she smiled. "Thank you for being strong enough for both of us."

He nodded, humbled at her trust in him and a bit overwhelmed at how close they'd come yet again. "And there wasn't even any music on this time."

She laughed softly. " I think it's a very good thing we only have six weeks until the wedding. Speaking of which, if I'm staying here tonight, _you're_ going to have to help me address two hundred wedding invitations tomorrow. So you'd best not tell me you have to work."

He sighed dramatically. "Yes, dear."

Now her delighted laugh echoed around the darkened room. "And no setting up an 'emergency call,' either. I'll know."

Myles wrapped his arms around her again, smiling down at her. "You're just no fun at all. It's a good thing I love you. Now, I suppose we should at least _attempt_ to get some sleep, if we're going to brave writers' cramp all day tomorrow."

* * *

&

* * *

_2 am_

_Getting _to sleep hadn't been a problem; unfortunately, his subconscious was trying to make up for his nobility earlier…

…_he sensed someone watching him, even as he stared into the Scotch in front of him on the bar. He turned, and his breath caught in his throat. _

_She was as beautiful as he'd remembered from that morning in the coffee shop; there was an air of elegance about her that he hadn't come across in a long time, and it stirred his tired soul. _

"_Elizabeth. How nice to see you again." He glanced admiringly at her. "You look lovely."_

"_Thank you, Myles." She'd brushed at her pantsuit lightly, a modest gesture he was sure had been drilled into her head since birth, given even what little he knew of her background._

"_Shall we?" As he'd taken her elbow to lead her to the table, a jolt had shot clear up his arm; only years of training at keeping his reactions to himself kept him steady as he seated her. …_

…_He turned and looked directly at her, clamping down the mask on what was a growing anger. "Did you talk to Tara this evening, before I called?" _

_Elizabeth blinked. "Yes," she said softly._

_He stood, anger and hurt ripping into his gut. "I see. Well, Dr. Dillingham, thank you for dinner, but I won't be needing your services. Good night." He turned on his heel and walked away._

_He heard her coming up behind him, but had no intention of stopping, until she caught his arm and swung him around._

"_Whoa there, Special Agent. What exactly do you think is going on?"_

_He wrenched his arm away from her. "I think," he spat, "that Tara filled you in on today's fiasco and wanted you to come therapize me, or whatever you call it. Poor Myles, he's had a rough day, see if you can straighten him out so we don't have any more episodes like this! Let me tell you something, Dr. Dillingham—I've been with the FBI for ten years, I know perfectly well how to do my job. I don't need yours or anybody else's help!"_

_Elizabeth didn't let him get a single stride; she stood toe-to-toe with him and eyed him steadily. "If I remember correctly," she said, very evenly, "you called me tonight, Agent Leland. … She took a breath. "Why did you call me tonight, Myles, if you'd had such a rotten day?"_

_He blinked. "I…"_

"_Because you picked having dinner with a near-stranger over staying home with your own thoughts, that's why. And that's fine. But don't you dare go and accuse me of conspiring with Tara to set you up in a therapy session."_

_Even as angry as he was, he couldn't help but notice how her eyes flamed emerald in her own ire. Something sparked inside him, even as he glared at her coldly._

"_You don't believe me," she said evenly. "Fine. Check with Tara. She always saves IM conversations for a couple of weeks—rather like a journal. You do whatever checking on me you feel you need to, get your answers, and then give me a call when you get done. Because even after this, I'd still like to see you again."…_

…"_Please, let me apologize again for my awful behavior."_

_They were strolling on the Mall again; but this time, the easy comfort they'd started last time continued. Pausing in front of the skating rink, he reached out and touched her cheek. _

"_I was a complete idiot."_

"_Myles, it's all right," Elizabeth replied. "You were exhausted, and you thought you'd been set up. I'm just glad you decided to give it another shot. Roger was afraid I'd mope around forever."_

_He raised a brow at her. "Roger?"_

"_My cat," she replied, laughing. _

"_Ah. Well, we can't have that." He gazed at her a moment longer, then took a breath. "Dr. Dillingham, I'd very much like to kiss you goodnight. Would you allow that?"_

_She didn't answer; instead, she stepped toward him and touched his cheek gently, drawing him toward her. She tasted of the strawberry pie they'd shared for dessert, along with something sweeter still, all her own…_

…_She walked around the table to him. He gently stroked her cheek, then let his fingers tangle in her dark hair. "What were you going to tell me on the phone the other night?"_

_Her green eyes widened. "Why? Why now?"_

"_Because it's important right now. I almost said something to you that night, too. And I need to say it now, just..." He paused. "Just in case."_

_She started to respond, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and he placed a finger on her lips. "I love you, Elizabeth Dillingham. I never thought I'd say that to anyone, certainly not after just three months, but I do – completely, hopelessly, passionately. Whatever happens, good or bad, I want you to know that."_

_A single tear streaked down one cheek, but her smile was like brilliant sunshine breaking through the clouds. "I love you, too, Myles. Whatever happens." She stretched up on her toes and gave him a gentle kiss. "With all my heart."…_

… _He stared at her incredulously for a long moment, then closed his eyes tightly and drew in a sharp breath, as if against a sudden pain. _

_Elizabeth's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" At his nod, she sighed. "Still want to yell at me?"_

"_No." He took her gloved hand in his before he opened his eyes. "Unfortunately, that mask prevents me from doing what I want to do instead." He surveyed the glove very carefully before he brought her palm to his lips. "I guess this will have to do. You are something else, you know that?"_

_She shrugged. "If the situation were reversed, would you be waiting out in the hall?" She read the answer in his eyes. "I didn't think so. By the way, there are a few other people out in that hall who'd like to see how you're doing."_

_He sighed heavily. "And I suppose it would be useless to protest?"_

_The mask tightened a little as she smiled. "Completely. But I think Jack will persuade the rest of them of the good sense in limiting the number of visitors."_

"_Good sense? That's a trait I'm finding in rather short supply right now." He gave her a meaningful look._

_Her eyes filled with tears, though the smile didn't fade, and her voice softened. "'Unless you can swear, 'For life, for death!' — Oh fear to call it loving.'"…_

… _The writing was hand-done calligraphy, and below the verse was a beautifully inked dragon. Suddenly, he heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned._

_Elizabeth stepped over to him, a brilliant smile lighting her face. "Welcome back," she said softly. _

_He took a step back. "Elizabeth? What are you doing here? I thought…"_

_She held out her hands to him. "I know. And I decided I wasn't going to keep you in suspense indefinitely. I knew you'd want to dive right back into work, so I allowed myself just two weeks to work all this out."_

_He took a deep breath, and drew her into his arms. The decision was hers, after all, and he was ready to accept whatever she'd chosen. "And what did you find as your answer?"_

_The smile softened, but didn't diminish. She put her arms around his neck, and stretched up on her toes until her lips were right next to his ear. "'Let peace begin'… with us. Whatever the cost."_

_His arms tightened around her, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. "You're sure?"_

_She pulled back to look into his eyes. "I'm sure. …_

… _Elizabeth was so much a part of his life now that he couldn't imagine life without her. … He was interrupted by the phone ringing. He sighed and picked it up, knowing full well there was only one thing that would constitute a call at five in the morning. _Now I know how D must feel at times_. "Leland."_

"_Myles?" Jack's voice was urgent. "Better get in here. Darcy's article just got localized."_

_His heart thudded in his chest, and he got to his feet in a hurry . "A Black Rose murder? Here in DC?" He looked at Elizabeth again; she was sitting up, wide awake now._

"_Yes."_

"_I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He started to say something to Elizabeth, but she shook her head. _

"_Go," she said, standing up. "No apology needed, love. Go."_

_He took her face in his hands and gave her a lingering kiss. "You are amazing. I hope you're still this understanding after we've been married for twenty years." Her eyebrows went up, and he suddenly realized what he'd said. "I mean—"_

_She laughed. "I love you, too. Now go on; they're waiting for you." …_

… _He heard the door slide open, and turned to face her. When he saw her, he was glad he'd not picked up the wineglasses, because they'd have been in pieces at his feet about now._

_To describe her in a single word, he'd always boiled it down to "elegant." Tonight was no exception, and it took his breath away._

_Tall, shoulders back, the heels of her shoes bringing her almost eye-to-eye with him, her every movement radiated refinement. Her black hair was swept up in a simple twist, and the opals he'd given her for her birthday sparkled at her ears and throat._

_Her dress was deep emerald silk, beautifully cut to skim snugly down to her waist, then flare into draped folds that flowed and caressed her long legs. A single row of tiny gold beads accentuated the spaghetti straps and the bodice line, drawing his eyes up over every curve and back to her slim shoulders. Sultry and sophisticated at the same time, she was exquisite, and he found that English just wasn't enough for a reply._

"_Ma chérie, vous êtes la femme la plus belle au monde. Exquis!" He took her hand and raised it to his lips. …_

… _The guitar faded away; they stood there for a long moment, gazing at each other, locked in the subtle sensuality that had woven its way around them. Gently, almost too slowly to bear, he leaned forward and kissed her._

_For a moment, time stopped; then it raced into being again as every tender word not yet spoken was breathed into life by the passion that flowed between them._

_His hands moved up into her hair, and pulled free the clip holding the elegant style in place. Raven tresses spilled over her shoulders, and his fingers tangled in them as he rained kisses on her cheeks, her eyelids. She drew in a sharp breath as his lips found her throat, and she whispered his name. He felt her shiver as his hands moved down over her shoulders, her back. _

_For a second, he felt her pause slightly; they'd reached this point only a few times in their relationship, and she always pulled back. He had never questioned it, but after last weekend he understood. He was ready to back off—_

_Then suddenly her hands drifted up his chest, moving around his neck and up into his hair. Her kisses grew bolder, exploring his face even as her hands moved over his shoulders, and he felt her lips caress his ear. The sensation almost overwhelmed him …_

… _Her eyes widened as she recognized the setting; a rose garden, the bench. "Myles… your dream…"_

_He nodded and crossed to her, going to one knee in front of her and placing a finger over her lips before she could protest. "Elizabeth, this is my last step home. I wanted to create a different dream for this setting, and I can think of no better." He placed the bouquet on the bench, then took her hands in his. "I needed a different poem to fill this setting, as well."_

_Her eyes shone as he began, very softly, to recite another poem from Lord Byron, one that would complete the journey for them both._

_"She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes:_

_Thus mellow'd to that tender light_

_Which heaven to gaudy day denies. …"_

_As he finished, he reached into his pocket. "My sweetheart, we've been through so much in this past year. It seems like you have been a part of me for all our lives, and I love you with all that I am. I cannot imagine my life without you." He opened a small velvet box. "Elizabeth Dillingham, will you marry me?"_

_She gazed for only a moment at the simple solitaire. Then she spoke, tears falling on her cheeks. "I love you too, Myles, with my whole heart and soul. Yes, a thousand times, yes. I will gladly, joyfully become your wife."_

_He slipped the ring onto her finger and gathered her in his arms, letting all that he couldn't put into words speak in his kiss. …_

…"_Walks in the rain…" His fingertips drifted across her face. "Christmas mornings…"_

"_Dancing with you after the kids are in bed…"_

"_Looking back at all the mistakes we made and laughing over them…" He drew back and smiled at her. "Gee, it's been a great life, hasn't it?"_

_Elizabeth kissed him again. "Glorious. Let's do it all over again."_

_Until this point they hadn't noticed that his grandmother had switched on the radio before she retired. A song began to wind its way around them, pulling them under each other's spell. Her arms circled his neck, pulling him closer, ignoring the subtle warning in her head. He trailed kisses down her face and neck, finding a soft spot on her collarbone that made her gasp softly. She explored his face with feather-light kisses, losing herself in the feel of his arms around her, his fingers trailing over her arms, finally weaving with hers and drawing her hand against his chest…_

_Lost… so completely lost in her scent, the feel of her skin, the heat of her breath across his throat… somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew they were headed out of control, but he couldn't seem to find the way back…_

…"_Stay with me." He felt her breath catch, and realized too late the double meaning of his words; expecting her to refuse, he drew back to look into her eyes and apologize. _

_What he saw there was her soul, laid bare for him alone. Her breathing was shallow and fast; but she didn't look away, and after a moment he saw her nod. The realization of what she was agreeing to blazed across his heart and body. Still, he wanted to be sure._

_Very slowly, he slid one of the sequined spaghetti straps off her shoulder. Her eyes never left his, and the emerald glow of them fired his soul further. He dropped a single gentle kiss against her collarbone, reveling in the way she trembled under his touch. Then he straightened, and found her watching him. _

_She said nothing, simply reached up and loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt as she did so. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her cheek against the warmth of his skin. He lifted her in his arms…_

His eyes shot open, half-expecting to find her lying with him, her lips against his skin. Certainly, his body was reacting as if she were. After a breath or two, Myles realized it had all been a dream; but he couldn't seem to find his way back from it totally.

_Too close…_ She was right across the hallway, and he knew she wouldn't lock her door. She was too close, he was too near the breaking point of his control, and he knew he needed to put some more distance between them _now_.

Shrugging into the tailored robe nearby, he left it hanging open over the drawstring pants, and headed downstairs quickly.

* * *

&

* * *

Elizabeth stirred; W_hat was that?_ Glancing at the clock, she realized the sound had come from across the hall— the door to Myles' room closing. _What's he doing up at 2:30? It's only been three hours…_

Curious, she got up, rather wishing she'd thought to bring over a replacement for the robe she'd had to take to the cleaners after a glass of wine got spilled on it. Instead, she reached into the guest room closet and pulled out one of his flannel shirts, grateful he bought them in the extended length. She slipped it on and buttoned it up, then went downstairs quietly.

He was in the living room, seated in one of the leather armchairs, his elbows on his knees and his hands wound up in his hair. He was staring at the floor.

"Myles?"

His head snapped around, and she saw an almost haunted look in his eyes. "Elizabeth, go back to bed."

"Why? What is it, love?" She started to step toward him, but he waved her off.

"Go back to bed. _Please_."

She wasn't listening; worse, she was walking toward him, her long legs going on forever underneath that flannel shirt— _his_ shirt. His blood was pounding in his ears; he had to make her understand before she got any closer. His voice was hoarse as he replied.

"A dream, that's all. A very… intense… dream. I can't shake it, and you being within arm's reach is _not_ helping. Please, just go back to your room."

Elizabeth looked puzzled for only a moment. Then she smiled. "Oh. _That_ kind of dream."

"Yes. Now, _please…_" He looked away, willing her to just _listen_ for once.

"Myles, I'm not going to leave you down here by yourself when I'm part of the reason you're down here in the first place." She paused, and he felt her fingers on his arm. He flinched, and she tightened her hold. "I _am _the reason, right?" she asked lightly.

He dared a look at her. "Yes. And it's not funny. You can't be down here, it's not… safe."

Her face softened. "You're right; it's not funny. I'm sorry for teasing you." His gaze dropped to the floor again, and she could feel the tension in him. "But I'm still not going to let you suffer alone." She stood and held out a hand to him. "Come here."

His gaze shot up to her again. "Are you listening to _anything_ I'm saying here?" Then his eyes widened. "You're not saying—?"

"No," she said softly. "After earlier tonight, I'll not break our promises. Will you just trust me for a minute, please?"

"A minute is about all you have, love," he admitted hoarsely. "But all right."

She led him over to the sofa and indicated he should sit down on the floor, then sat behind him on the couch. She leaned over until she could speak directly into his ear. "Close your eyes."

"Elizabeth…"

"Just do it. Trust me. Picture the seashore at your grandparents' house. Hear the roar of the waves, taste the salt in the air. Let yourself relax into the scene." Her hands moved over the muscles in his neck, kneading away _some_ of the tension.

Unfortunately, her touch was kindling more tension at the same time. "This isn't helping, sweetheart."

"It will if you take me out of that scene," she murmured calmly. "You're there by yourself."

"Oh."

She smiled. "Focus out on the waves. Lose yourself in the serenity of it." She stopped speaking, leaned back away from him, and let her hands rest still until she felt him relax a little.

He fought for control, and was surprised to find that, while his nerves were still strung tight, he didn't feel on the verge of losing restraint. He let out a breath, and then heard her voice once more. _At least she's not right in my ear again._

"Now, take a deep breath and let it out, then I'm going to say three words that I guarantee will make the difference."

He drew the breath, filling his lungs completely, then let it out slowly. Her hair brushed his shoulder again, and he tried to ignore the sensation. It almost worked. Then her voice caressed his ear once more.

"Deep. Tissue. Massage."

The image those words conjured up were like a bucket of ice water over his skin, and he audibly gasped. His head snapped around; she'd been expecting it, or he'd have broken her nose.

"_You_ are cruel." He still couldn't quite believe he'd heard her correctly.

She smiled. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

He scowled at her. "Maybe permanently."

Elizabeth laughed, rubbing her hands across his shoulders. "I'm sorry, love. But you obviously needed a change of venue, and Arlene seemed to be a good choice."

He shook his head at her, though he couldn't help but smile slightly. "The feminine personification of an ice-cold shower. And don't you _ever_ tell her I said that. She'd slip cyanide into my next immunization booster without batting an eyelash."

"Are you okay now?" Elizabeth asked.

He sighed deeply. "Yeah. Thank you… I think." Then his brows drew together slightly. "You know, I really hope Sam wasn't tuned in to my dream this time. It got a bit… well…"

"I can guess," she replied softly. "He got flashes of your garden dream because it was frightening to you; you needed someone there as an anchor, even if you didn't perceive him there. This time, you didn't; in fact, as highly personal as I suspect this dream was, your subconscious would have put up its own barriers. He might have gotten a flash of your emotions, but that's it. If you're worried about it, you can always ask him."

Myles chuckled. "I think not. Besides, if he got any of it, I'll get teased about it the first chance he gets." He stretched a bit, enjoying the feel of her hands absently stroking his shoulder. "That feels nice."

"Nice, but not hazardous?" she replied. When he nodded, she began to knead the muscles in his shoulders and neck, feeling him truly relax beneath her touch. After several minutes, she leaned over and dropped a kiss into his hair. "Think you can sleep again?"

"Mmm-hmm." He caught her hand and looked up at her, pressing a kiss into her palm. "Thank you, love."

"Anytime," she smiled. "Besides, you're still not getting out of helping me with the invitations, so you need your rest."


	21. Ch 16: Home Stretch

**Chapter 16: Home Stretch

* * *

**

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Wednesday, 20 April_

_3 p.m._

"_No_, Mother. Not one more person. The invitations were sent out a month ago." Elizabeth ran a hand over her face in exasperation. "I don't care. You want to schmooze Iris Wescott, you invite her out to the next luncheon you host. You are not turning my wedding into a society ladder rung, and that's final."

The voice on the other end of the line was obviously not pleased; she tuned out her mother's ranting and began to sign what she'd _really _like to say, just to release some of the tension. Two weeks before the wedding, and everything that _could_ go haywire… _was_.

It had started out fine; the day that they addressed the invitations, they had also pounded out the rest of the basics. Colors and flowers were a no-brainer; peace roses, pale yellow and pink. By the time the last invitation was done, they'd figured out details for the reception as well. The rest of the day had been spent simply enjoying each other's company.

Her house went on the market and sold within a week; it would close on the 30th, and the new owners would be in on May 2nd. Next week they'd move her stuff over to Myles' house, and she'd have hers professionally cleaned.

Then things started to go awry; not so much in the details, although she'd had to go over to the dress shop _three times_ to explain to the seamstress that "pale yellow" didn't mean "sunshine." Elizabeth wanted Lucy and Connie to still be speaking to her after this.

The worst of it was that the team had gotten a case at the first of April, and Myles was pretty deeply undercover. They'd thought it would only take a couple of weeks; now, it was starting to look like they'd be cutting it awfully close to May 1st.

_I don't need this today_, she thought, her mother's voice registering once again. _I just want five minutes to see him and have him tell me everything will be fine._ "Mother, that's enough," she finally snapped, her patience gone. "If you were paying for this wedding, you would undoubtedly have more say in what's going on. But you're not. We're doing it ourselves, and all you need to worry about is showing up on time. I'm through with this conversation today. Goodbye."

She hung up, already formulating the apology she knew she'd have to start the next conversation with. It wasn't so much that her mother wanted to be involved; it was the annoying fact that she felt it had to be the society event of the year. Elizabeth wasn't about to have the most important day of her life turn into a three-ring circus of socialite schmoozing.

_I miss you, Dad._ Her father, who had passed away from colon cancer ten years ago, would have been able to rein in her mother. He'd have watched her tolerantly until she reached a certain point, then told her in that quietly authoritative voice to "back off." Then he'd have put his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and taken her out for lunch, where he'd tease her until she relaxed again.

She sat down at the kitchen counter, dropping her face into her hands. After several long minutes, a soft noise brought her head back up slightly. A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she caught a glimpse of a grey suit coat.

Without even thinking, she spun around and flung herself into the warmth of his embrace. She was about a centimeter from his lips when he spoke.

"Uh, Liz?"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "Sam?"

Myles' twin chuckled. "Man, you must be having some kinda day if you can't tell the difference by now."

She fell back a step, then shook her head, laughing as well. "I just got off the phone with my mother. What's that tell you?"

"That you really do need that hug," he replied with a grin. "And, since my brother is off saving the world yet again…" He folded her into his arms and dropped a kiss on her head. "Better?"

She sighed. "Much. Thanks. What are you doing here, anyway? And why are you all dressed up?"

He shrugged. "Just got back from a meeting with a couple of guys who have some truly wild ideas for a new video game company. They wanted my input while they were talking to some potential investors, so I donned the monkey suit to give a good impression. Thought I'd surprise you, is all." He tugged at the tie. "How does 'Bro put up with these things every day?"

Elizabeth laughed again. "I think it's nature's revenge against whatever male invented pantyhose." She laid a hand on his arm. "Hey, if I spring for dinner, would you be willing to help me out this afternoon? I need a good impression, too."

Sam raised a brow at her. "What for?"

"I need to convince a caterer that he really doesn't want to tick me or my future husband off by advertising one menu, taking my order, and then telling me two weeks before the wedding that 'it's been discontinued.'" She looked up at him, a twinkle in her green eyes. "Can you play 'outraged Myles'?"

He grinned. "In my sleep, sis-to-be. In my sleep."

* * *

&

* * *

_Wednesday evening_

Elizabeth laughed over her salad. "I can't get over the look on that smug chef's face when you reminded him of 'the first rule of marketing: a satisfied customer tells ten people about it, a dissatisfied one _fifty_.' I'd forgotten that."

Sam shrugged, grinning. "I noticed; that's the second time today you've come within an inch of kissing me. Tara's gonna get jealous."

"Sorry," she said, her cheeks red, "I'm so wound up right now I keep forgetting you're not Myles. I'd better find a way to see him soon."

"Yeah, I think so. Anyway, I might not have the degree, but it doesn't mean I haven't done my homework." He gave her a concerned look. "Feeling better?"

She sighed. "A little. That's one less thing I have to worry about. Now if I could just catch up with Tara, Sue and Lucy for like five minutes each to try on their bridesmaid dresses… I'd even drag the dresses over to the Bureau myself, if I thought they could spare the time. But I can't even call to find _that_ out, not when they're on 24/7. At least Connie's coming down for the week; that will help a lot."

Just then, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. "Well, speak of…" She smiled as she answered the relay call. "Hi Connie. Go Ahead."

Sam watched her face fall as she listened.

"What? But tax season's over… Go Ahead." She listened some more, and clenched her napkin in her hand. "All right. I'll figure out something. Go Ahead." Another pause. "I know, I know, just chalk it up to my life right now. Go Ahead."

She sighed heavily. "Ok, love you, sis, I'll talk to you later. Bye. Go Ahead."

Connie apparently ended the call as well, because Elizabeth hung up, dropped her phone in her purse, and began to rub her temples with her fingertips. "You know, Sam, I'd toss my entire wedding plan out the window and elope, if it weren't for the fact that I'm also missing one _groom_ right now."

He chuckled. "What now?"

"Connie's got a client who got their tax info all messed up, so now she has to spend the next week or more re-doing it. She said she'll be sure to make it for the wedding itself, but she won't be here for the rehearsal this Friday night, and she can't guarantee anything else." The psychologist threw her napkin down on the table in exasperation. "If anyone _else_ manages to make it Friday."

"I'll be there," Sam replied.

It brought a smile to her lips, as he'd intended. "Thank you. I needed to hear that right now. The rate we're going, you and I will be the only ones there on May first. You think the minister would do a marriage by proxy?"

He laughed heartily. "Liz, it's going to be fine. Myles and the team will snag the baddies yet again, Connie will make it down here, the dresses will be perfect, and then you'll have a full month to recover from all of it."

Her head snapped up. "A _month_?"

"He didn't tell you?" Sam grimaced. "Oh, boy. It must have slipped his mind. The final details came in about the same time they got this case, whatever it is. I didn't think he'd have forgotten, or I'd have told you."

"Lovely," she muttered. "Now, on top of everything else, I have to let my partners at the clinic know they're covering my patients for an extra two weeks. Half of them will be cured by the time I get back." She looked up at her future brother-in-law. "I don't suppose you'd tell me what we're going to be _doing_ for that month?"

"Now, Liz, you know me better than that," he smiled. "Look, are the dresses finished except for this last fitting?"

She sighed. "Yes. But if there are any last-minute alterations that need doing, they won't get done."

He finished off his iced tea and set the glass down firmly. "Then tomorrow, you go pick Connie's dress up and meet me at College Park airport. We'll just buzz on up there and do her fitting in person."

Elizabeth gasped. "You're not serious? Sam, the fuel alone…"

"Is my concern, not yours," he replied. "And, when you get home, just email Tara and see if there's any way the girls can be spared for ten minutes each. If so, then you do exactly as you'd planned and go over to the Bureau to do it."

Her eyes were two green saucers. "When did you suddenly become so efficient?" His smug little smile made her laugh. "Thank you, Sam. At least things are getting done, even if my nerves are still shot."

"No problem, Dr. Liz. Besides, seeing a shrink two steps from a breakdown is making me nervous." He grinned as she laughed. "Now, let's go find something fun to do, and forget about your plans for awhile. Myles would kill me if he knew I was letting you wind yourself up over this."

* * *

&

* * *

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_Thursday, 21 April_

_9 p.m._

No word… less than twenty-four hours before the rehearsal, and she'd heard not one word from any of them. Elizabeth's head was throbbing again. _At least Connie's dress is finished_, she thought to herself. _And the reception is set. Now, if we just had a wedding party… I'll have to call Reverend Adams and see if we can reschedule for next week. He'll have to squeeze us in somewhere…_

She didn't even flinch when a warm hand touched her shoulder. "Sam, if you keep sneaking up on me like this, I'm going to end up kissing you."

"That might raise a few brows," an amused voice replied. "Especially since you've always assured me that _you_ could tell the difference between us."

She whirled around on the kitchen stool and looked up into blue-grey eyes that twinkled with affection. "Myles!"

"Hi, sweetheart." He swept her up in his arms and gave her a long kiss. When he set her down, he smiled down at her. "Miss me?"

She swatted him on the shoulder. "_Miss you?_ Myles Leland, you'd better be here to tell me that your case is wrapped up and we're still getting married next week, or your fiancée is going to… I don't know, but it'll be drastic."

Myles laughed and stroked her cheek. "The case is wrapped up, tomorrow is just paperwork, and Connie and your grandfather are the only one two will miss tomorrow night's rehearsal. And we _are_ still getting married next week, even if I have to call a 'time out' and drag the criminals over to the church with me. Fair enough?"

Elizabeth glared at him. "You're mocking me, aren't you?" Then she had to laugh as well, and tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him down into another intense kiss. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, love. The past three weeks have been _awful_. Remind me never to get married again."

He caught her face in his hands and bored a heated gaze clear through to her soul as he whispered, "Never. Get married. Again."

* * *

&

* * *

_Georgetown Community Church_

_Friday, 22 April_

_7 p.m._

"Okay, so Molly will come down the aisle next, just before Elizabeth." Reverend Seth Adams was standing at the altar of the old church, surrounded by most of the wedding party now. Molly Leland walked down the burgundy carpet, pretending to scatter peace rose petals. There were smiles all around at the look of intense concentration on her face.

Myles watched his mother smile from the front pew. Anne had brought Molly down, not only for the rehearsal, but for a week of sightseeing as well, and his niece hadn't stopped bouncing off the walls since they landed at Dulles three hours ago…

"_We're gonna see the zoo, and the Smithsonian, and I told Gramma I want to climb all the way to the top of the Washington Monument, and then Uncle Myles can help me go see the President and tell him my teachers all think his 'No Child Left Behind' program is a crock of—"_

"_Molly!" Anne had gasped, as Myles smothered a grin and Elizabeth ducked her head beneath the counter, under the pretense of pulling out a pan. Tara had her hand over her mouth, shaking silently, and Sam made a show of whistling for Glorfindel._

"_Well, that's what they said," the eight-year-old protested. "I heard it in the teachers' lounge when I was coming in from lunch."…_

A rehearsal a week before the wedding was unusual, but they'd decided to allow some room for last-minute case-related reschedules. Since there'd been none, the entire team was here, and the ladies had used the opportunity to finish up the dress issue. _Everything _was finally done.

Myles watched his bride-to-be step into the doorway of the chapel as Pachelbel's "Canon in D" echoed from the CD player they were using in place of the harpist, who had a conflict this evening. He could tell she was still on edge, even though everything was in place and ready. Her hands shook the bouquet she was carrying.

"You'll hand the bouquet to Connie, then take Myles by the right hand," Seth was saying.

Her hand was ice-cold; Myles rubbed his fingers over it a few times to both warm it and try to soothe her. As she looked up at him, her expression melted into a dazzling smile, even if the trembling didn't subside.

"All right. Once we're all up here and your grandfather has given you away, the rest of the ceremony is pretty much in my hands, unless you two decided to add your own vows after all."

"No, Reverend," Myles replied, "I think we have enough on our minds already." He smiled as Elizabeth gave his a grateful look.

"Okay, then. We start with the obligatory 'If anyone has just cause—"

Suddenly, a side door burst open, and a man walked in. The chandelier lights glinted off the barrel of a .45. "All right, nobody move. Who's in charge?"

Molly started to scream, but Sam placed a hand over her mouth and gently maneuvered her behind him. Reverend Adams turned calmly and faced the man.

"I'm the pastor here. Is there something I can help you with?"

The man's face broke into a leer. "Sure, Rev. You can help me to your offering plate takings." He tossed a bag toward Seth, who caught it. "And while you're doing that, these nice folks can help me out with their wallets and jewelry." He advanced on the group.

No one moved, but she could feel the tension mount as the team drew together instinctively. _I do NOT believe this_, Elizabeth thought. _Can anything else POSSIBLY go wrong?_ She glanced down at her engagement ring, and realized that Sam had their wedding rings in his pocket as well.

Then she looked around and realized… and her control snapped. A giggle found its way from her lips, and she couldn't hold it back. Sinking down onto the step in front of the altar, she doubled over in hysterical laughter while several shocked faces looked on.

"Elizabeth? Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"Lady, you find this _funny_?" the man asked. "I think you'd best re-evaluate your situation. In fact, let's start with that shiny little bauble on your left hand."

Her breath came in gasps; Myles was about to kneel down next to her when she held up a hand. "I'm…okay…love," she managed between continued laughing. She looked up at the thug. "I think this is absolutely hilarious. Because you _so _picked the wrong church to rob tonight."

The gun was inches from her face now, and his voice lowered angrily. "And just _why_ might that be?"

The laughter ceased as suddenly as it began, and only a sweet smile remained. "Because 95 percent of this wedding party…is made up of FBI agents."

The whisper of five sidearms being drawn simultaneously echoed through the chapel, and the man's eyes widened. Sam was grinning, and even Anne couldn't hold back a smile. As soon as Jack relieved the man of his gun, Molly peeked out from behind Sam.

"Don't you _dare_ wreck my auntie Liz's wedding! Go 'way!"

There was laughter all around, and Elizabeth opened her arms to the little girl. "You tell him, Molly. Don't _ever_ mess with a woman during the week before her wedding."

Bobby and D led the man out of the chapel while Reverend Adams called DCPD. Myles held out a hand to Elizabeth and lifted her to her feet, pulling her into his arms in the same movement.

"And I thought someone going 'postal' was scary," he chuckled softly against her hair. "Forget 'postal;' 'bridal' is even worse."

* * *

&

* * *

_Sutherland Psychiatric Clinic, near MacPherson Square_

_Friday, 29 April_

_4 p.m._

Tara was waiting in the lobby when Elizabeth came out of Dan Sutherland's office. The older psychologist was smiling. "I don't want to see you back in this office for a month, young lady. Go relax. I'll see you on Sunday."

Elizabeth gave him a quick hug. "Thanks so much, Dan. It feels nice, knowing that when I get back I'll just be part of your practice, not your patient roster." She turned and saw her friend. "Tara? I thought you were over at the house?"

The petite agent laughed. "I was. Come on, we need to save Myles from his mother."

* * *

&

* * *

"So why on earth are we saving Myles from Anne?" Elizabeth asked as she got out of her car in front of her house.

Tara was still grinning. "You'll hear in a second, trust me. Sam called me while I was on my way to meet you." They walked up to the front door, which was open in the midst of moving her things into a small rental truck for the two-mile trip to Myles' home.

Anne Leland's voice could indeed be heard coming from upstairs, mixed with the sound of her husband-to-be's baritone. Sam was sprawled in a small armchair that had been brought down from her guest room, Molly in his lap, reading _A Wrinkle in Time_ to her and trying to either not grin or not grimace as he listened to the conversation going on.

"Auntie Liz!" The eight-year-old's blue eyes brightened as she looked up. She wiggled off her uncle's lap, then turned and pointed a finger at him. "Put the bookmark in it, Uncle Sam. You forgot last time."

Sam chuckled and held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Don't shoot." He very carefully marked their place and held the book up to her. "See? All taken care of. Sheesh." He grinned as Tara replaced Molly in his lap. "Afternoon, ladies. How'd it go with Dan?"

"Wonderful!" Elizabeth grabbed Molly's hands and swung her around as the little girl giggled. "He said I may still have the occasional flashback, but we're done with regular sessions. It feels _so good_ to be free of all this."

"Tell me about it." Sam wrapped his arms around Tara and kissed her ear, making her giggle.

The psychologist looked down at her future niece. "So how come you two are down here, instead of helping? Did Uncle Myles spring you loose?"

"No." Molly shook her head. "Him and Gramma got into a fight, and Uncle Sam said we should…um…" She scrunched her face up, trying to remember. "He said we should get out of the way before the—"

"Before the storm hit the shore," Sam finished quickly, prompting a grin form Tara. "Yeah, yeah, I forget about the 'human tape recorder' here. Not a phrase I use often, but the cause was sufficient, believe me."

"That's _not_ what you said," Molly protested. "You said—"

"It's okay, Molly," Elizabeth laughed. "I get the idea. So what's the fight about? I left a list of the stuff that needed to be moved."

"_That's_ what the fight is about," Sam grinned. "I think maybe you'd better go rescue him from Mom."

Just then, Myles appeared at the top of the stairs. "Mother, I swear to you, that's the only—" He stopped abruptly as he saw the group in the entry. "Sweetheart. Thank heaven."

"Hi, love. Is there a problem of some sort?"

He swung his arm around to point at his mother, who was coming up behind him. "Will you _please _tell this crazy woman who bore me that I am _not_ trying to sabotage your moving operation?" His voice was edged with an affectionate exasperation.

Anne Leland put her hands on her hips. "That list is less than half the contents of this house. I'm telling you, you lost a page somewhere."

"Oh!" Elizabeth smiled. "Anne, he didn't lose a page. That's all I wanted to take. The rest is going over to the women's shelter tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." Myles came down the stairs to give her a kiss. "That chair Sam and Tara are snuggled in is the last of it. I'm going to go grab a glass of iced tea, Sam, if that's okay."

"Knock yourself out, Bro."

After he left, Anne frowned at her future daughter-in-law. "Are you sure? I realize that my son is rather set in his ways, but that shouldn't mean his new wife can't make their home her own as well."

"I know," the psychologist replied. "But I'm not planning to make it _my_ own; I'm planning to make it _our_ own, and I happen to like the base he started with. With one marked exception…"

* * *

&

* * *

_Myles' house, Columbia Heights_

"You're not getting rid of this chair." His voice was quietly firm.

"Love, this chair is _ugly_," she replied gently. "It goes with nothing else in this house, you told me it's been re-padded once already. Let it die already."

They were standing in the master bedroom. Since they'd picked out the bedroom set from her house together, they'd decided to replace his with it. Everything was in place now, except for the rather battered armchair before them.

The gold upholstery might once have resembled suede, but now it was threadbare and stained in more than one spot. It didn't match the polished traditional look of the rest of the house, and Elizabeth wondered at its significance.

"You're not getting rid of it," he repeated softly.

She took his hand and sat them both down on the bed. "Why? What does it hold for you, love? Tell me, please."

Myles sighed and looked into her emerald eyes. "You'll laugh."

"Somehow, I don't think so," she answered, touching his cheek. "Tell me."

"Well, just after I finished my training at Quantico and was assigned to the Hartford field office, I got my first apartment. Dad had always ingrained in us the notion that anything we earned ourselves would mean far more than anything he could just give us, so I never even asked for help furnishing the place, even though he'd have done it in a heartbeat. I had a little money left after the rents and security deposit, so I went looking in some of the antique stores around Hartford. I came across that chair, and something about it just called to me. In its day it had a much more distinguished aura than it does now."

She smiled tolerantly. "I'll take your word for it."

Myles wrinkled his nose at her. "Anyway, even though the store gave me a deal on it, that chair took up most of my budget for the next few weeks. It was the only piece of furniture in the apartment, so it served as a bed, too. I was too stubborn to just call Dad and ask for a loan. Then Mom paid a surprise visit." His breath came out in a laugh. "Needless to say, I had a fully furnished apartment by the end of the weekend. But I've never forgotten that feeling of depending totally upon my own efforts. That chair serves as a reminder of what's really important."

He looked up and saw tears running down her cheeks. "What, love? What is it?"

"Thank you," she whispered, taking his hand in both of hers. "Thank you for trusting me enough to share something so deeply personal. You're right; I'm not getting rid of that chair."

He kissed her gently, then smiled. "We'll find a slipcover for it. Then I don't have to explain it to anyone else."

* * *

&

* * *

_Tara Williams' Apartment_

_Saturday, 30 April_

_10 pm_

Elizabeth brought paper plates over to the trash can. "You throw quite a party for 'just you, me, Sue & Lucy,' kiddo. But I needed that. Thank you, my friend."

Tara shrugged. "Hey, can I help it if half the units you've consulted for wanted to know when your bridal shower was so they could pitch in? You're just too popular. Besides, Myles has been a lot easier to get along with since he met you— that by itself should bring you laurels upon laurels."

It was quiet now; everyone else had gone home. Elizabeth had stayed at Tara's last night, and would again tonight. Everyone had been teasing Myles that he'd arranged it that way so the psychologist wouldn't have a chance to bolt when she came to her senses.

Tara closed the dishwasher and started it running. She then walked over to the coat rack by the door and picked up a beautifully wrapped present from the bench where she kept her purse. "Oh, Liz. Here's one more gift," she said innocently.

Elizabeth looked at the box Tara set on the counter. The paper was a delicate silver foil, wrapped with sheer ribbons that cascaded from a simple bow tied around a spray of miniature white roses. "Tara, that's too pretty to open. Besides, you already gave me a present."

Her friend smiled. "It's not from me. Myles stopped at my desk on his way out this afternoon and asked me to give it to you after everyone else had gone home. I think he wanted you to be alone when you opened it." She stretched and let out a monster yawn. "I think I'm gonna crash early. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"That we do," Elizabeth smiled. "I can't believe it's finally going to happen."

Tara gave her a big hug. "Believe it, 'sis-to-be'," she said in a perfect imitation of Sam's lilt, "and we won't be far behind you. We got talking about it the other night, and I think we'll shoot for the end of the summer."

"That's wonderful. I'm glad they all decided to spend tonight together. They haven't had much opportunity in the past twenty-some years, not all of them."

"I know," the petite agent replied. "Which is why I planned this little shindig specifically so that they wouldn't feel obligated to have us along. Sam needs it, and I think Myles does, too. Family's important to them. Well, I'm off to bed." She pointed at the present again. "Enjoy."

Elizabeth stared at the box for several long moments, wondering what marvelous surprise he'd cooked up for her this time. That he was giving it to her the night _before_ their wedding was significant; she knew that. For whatever reason, he wanted her to have it now.

She carefully undid the ribbon, knowing that she'd save it and the flowers for years to come. As she lifted the cover off the box and moved aside the tissue with a soft rustle, her breath caught in her throat. She lifted out a silk sheath nightgown, pure white, that would drop to her knees modestly and cover her shoulders as well. It was like holding a cloud; lightweight and infinitely soft. Pinned to the tag was a small handwritten note: _Wear this as you sleep tonight, and feel my love around you always._

Tears brightened her smile as a wash of warmth spread over her for the man she would marry tomorrow. She glanced back at the box and saw an envelope nestled in the bottom with her name on it in his bold handwriting. She flipped it over to open it, and smiled again at the note he'd written on the back: _Not until you're wearing that nightgown and ready for bed._

"Yes, dear," she whispered softly, laughing gently that he knew her so well. She pulled out Tara's sofa bed and went to wash up. A few minutes later, marveling at the feel of the silk against her skin, she curled up under the covers and opened the letter:

_My beloved Elizabeth,_

_As I sit in my study and write this, I see your face before me and long for the hours to hasten their journey until we meet at the altar and vow before God Almighty to cherish each other for all our lives. I have often taken pride in my gift of words, but find now that I struggle to put in prose the feelings that are entwined around my heart and soul. That I love you with all that I am is something I hope you will never have reason to doubt, and that I promise to do my utmost to make you happy is something I hope you will always know by my actions._

_I have never loved easily; perhaps I had seen too much in my course of duty to truly believe there were still guileless souls in this world, certainly over the age of ten. Yet, when I drown in the emerald depths of your eyes, I see all that is good and pure in this world, and I yearn ever to protect it still. That gift alone would make me love you, but you are so much more, so much that I have thirsted for without realizing it. You are the completion of my soul, the sole keeper of the key to my heart, and the greatest treasure I could ever hold in my arms._

_That you have retained until marriage something so precious that so many others give away without thought leaves me in awe; it grieves me that I cannot meet your gift with an equal one. Yet I know you would tell me to not dwell on the past, so I offer this in its stead: my truest fidelity from this point forward. My heart, my body, my soul are yours alone, and have been since the day I met you. _

_My dearest, we have faced so much already, and still we stand together; the future glows brightly before us, for if we have braved this much and triumphed, the trials of every day seem pale and small in their shadows. To you I vow this evening, and all the days of our lives, to fight each fight, grand or small, with the same fervor and dedication to the cause of peace and our love that you have shown me._

_Dream of me tonight as you sleep wrapped in the purity of my love for you; I know I will dream of you and all that awaits us, beginning tomorrow._

_Ever your love,_

_Myles_

She had to lay it down on the bed for a moment; any more tears on it, and the ink would run illegibly. Elizabeth read it through a second time, then a third, her heart melting at the thought of him. For a second, she considered calling him; then she realized that she could never match the eloquence he'd obviously spent a great deal of time on with a vocal conversation.

Plumping up the pillow, she turned off the lamp on the end table and snuggled under the covers.

"I cannot help but dream of you," she whispered to the moonlight streaming in from the starlit velvet of the sky. "You _are_ all my dreams. Sleep well, my sweet knight."


	22. Ch 17: INSIDE MY FAMILY WELCOME

**Chapter 17: INSIDE MY FAMILY WELCOME

* * *

**

_Georgetown Community Church_

_Sunday, 1 May_

_10:30 am_

"Okay, Liz, whatever was in that package last night, can I get a dose of it?" Tara pushed another couple of hairpins into the elegant twist atop Elizabeth's head. "You're the calmest bride I've ever seen."

The psychologist laughed shakily. "Calm? Look at my hands." She held up beautifully manicured, visibly trembling fingers. "The letter I read last night is the only thing keeping me _conscious_ right now."

"Do tell." Lucy was putting her earrings in. "I gotta tell you, Liz, I think you've completely bewitched him. He's been an absolute prince ever since you accepted that ring. Well, for Myles."

"Whoa, buddy." Connie grabbed Levi as he jumped toward Sue. "Not on the dress, if you please."

Tara handed Elizabeth a robe to pull over her slip as Anne Leland answered the knock at the door. "Jack. What's up?"

"D sent me down here to see if the boutonnieres were—" The words died in his throat as he got a look at them all. "Wow."

The bridesmaid dresses were simply done, with long, slim sleeves and Queen Anne necklines that framed the ladies' faces beautifully. Natural waistlines were softened by a layer of chiffon that floated over the full, tea-length skirts. Lucy's and Connie's dresses were a delicate pale yellow; Tara and Sue…

Jack's breath caught as Sue walked over to him, a delighted smile on her face. "If the boutonnieres were _what_, Jack?"

He stared at her silently for a long moment. Then he shook himself out of it. "Uh, if they were ready." Then he couldn't resist, and he gently took her hand and raised it to his lips. "You look like a sunrise," he whispered.

She smiled down at the pale pink of her dress, and glanced shyly back up at him, oblivious to the several smiles around them. THANK YOU, she signed. They stared at each other for another minute; then Tara cleared her throat.

"You came here _after_ something, Agent Hudson?" she grinned.

"Huh?" He looked around and realized where he was. "Oh, yes." He took a step back from Sue and shook his head to clear it. "The boutonnieres."

Connie Dillingham was trying not to laugh. ME BRING MINUTES FEW, she signed. ME THINK YOU TAKE YOU DROP.

He wrinkled his nose at her as soft laughter started around the room. Elizabeth stood and walked over to give him a quick hug. "I'm glad you like the _dresses_, Jack," she smiled. "How are the guys doing?"

He chuckled. "If by 'guys' you mean Myles, he was less edgy after the time he got shot. But we'll make sure he doesn't decide to abort at the last minute."

A glint of mischief graced her green eyes. "I don't think you can be trusted to guarantee _anything_ today, Jack. You seem to be remarkably distracted about now." She signed it as well.

Sue's face was two shades darker than her dress, and a flush crept into Jack's face as well. "Yes, well, I'll go let them know Connie will bring the flowers down in a few minutes. Ladies." He was gone before anyone could tease him further.

Elizabeth laughed and turned to face Sue. Grinning broadly, she signed it slowly enough for everyone to pick up. ONE DAY YOU MAKE HIM VERY HAPPY.

Sue flushed further. "Oh!" she said, obviously changing the subject, "Levi, I think maybe you'd better not be in here while we help Liz with her dress. Go with Jack."

Lucy couldn't resist. "You know, it's amazing that he'll go to Jack faster than any of the other guys on the team. I wonder why that is."

Sue opened the door for the big dog, pointedly ignoring the smiles of the others. Anne Leland leaned over to Tara and whispered, "Is there another wedding in the future we don't know about?"

Tara grinned wickedly. "Oh, I'm pretty sure _they _don't have it figured out yet, but the rest of us most definitely do."

* * *

&

* * *

"Oh, Elizabeth." Anne's face was glowing as she looked at her future daughter-in-law. "My son is going to be speechless. He'll be fortunate to get 'I do' across his lips."

The psychologist was standing in front of the full-length mirror they'd brought over from the house; her own breath seemed to be having trouble finding its way as she stared at her reflection. Even though she'd had the dress on once for a fitting, she almost didn't recognize the veritable princess looking back at her.

The dress was a classic ballgown style, with a Queen Anne neckline that framed her face and the upsweep of her hair. Long, slim lace sleeves puffed slightly at the shoulders and then hugged her arms. The sleek bodice, accented with pearls, skimmed to her waist and then flowed outward into the full skirt with its semi-cathedral train. Delicate cutwork turned the expanse of satin into a work of art.

The top layer of her hair was spun into a wide bun at the crown of her head, and a small filigree headpiece made her hair sparkle and held the veil that cascaded down her back over the rest of her hair.

"This can't be me," she whispered. "This is a dream."

Anne smiled. "Yes, and it's a dream you'll have for the rest of your life. You get a good look in the mirror, Elizabeth. My grandmother once told me that the best way for a woman to know how the man who loves her _sees_ her is to take a look at her reflection on her wedding day. Because _that_ is his vision of you every time he looks at you."

The other ladies were gone now; Connie to deliver the boutonnieres, and the others to make sure Molly was ready as well. Elizabeth's mother had declined to help her daughter get ready; they both knew it would only cause further tension. She was waiting outside.

"Now, let's make sure you have everything." Anne ticked off an imaginary list on her fingers. "Something old?"

Elizabeth smiled. "My grandmother's diamond necklace."

"Something new?"

"The earrings I bought to go with it. And my dress, of course."

"Something borrowed?"

Green eyes twinkled as the psychologist tilted her head toward Anne. "Your son's heart from you?"

Myles' mother smiled and laid a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "Not borrowed. Given freely to be shared."

"Oh." She laughed softly. "Then I suppose it would have to be the shoes I borrowed from Connie."

"And something blue?"

Elizabeth lifted her skirt to indicate the delicate blue garter sitting just above her knee. "I think we have everything." She turned to the woman who would shortly become her mother-in-law and took her hands. "Anne, thank you. You and Robert, your whole family, have become something so dear that I never truly had growing up. We were cordial and all, but not like the warmth you all share so generously. Even Myles; I know he has this 'image' to uphold at the Bureau, but it peeks through more often than he realizes. Thank you for inviting me into that."

The older woman touched Elizabeth's cheek. "You're more than welcome. And you've easily given as much to our family as you've received. I look forward to getting to know Connie, as well. She seems like a wonderful girl. Now, why don't you sit down and relax. We're just waiting for the men to finish primping now, and then we'll get you married."

* * *

&

* * *

Connie Dillingham poked her head through the open door of the room next to the pastor's office and smiled. She had the tray of boutonnieres for the group of tuxedoed individuals inside.

WOW, she signed and spoke, looking at the group. "So many handsome men all dressed up. Must be a wedding or a waiter's convention."

Myles turned from where he'd been talking to Jack, his father and David Dillingham. Sam was over with Brad and James, and Dimitrius was trying to help Bobby finish his tie.

FUNNY HA HA, he signed in return. "Very funny." Then he got a look at her. CONNIE... YOU BEAUTIFUL.

Her cheeks colored, heightening the glow in her face against the pale yellow dress. Her dark auburn hair was piled atop her head, woven with baby's breath and miniature peace roses. THANK YOU. She then placed an "m" hand sideways against her right shoulder and arched it outward slightly.

Her grandfather looked puzzled. "I got 'thank you,' but what did she say after that?"

"I don't know," Myles replied. "A sign I haven't learned yet?" He glanced over at Jack, who shook his head as well.

Connie was grinning, and Myles couldn't stand it anymore. O-K, he signed and spoke. SIGN MEAN WHAT?

She repeated the sign slowly, watching him copy it. She then placed the fingertips of her right "v" hand against her left palm, flipping the fingertips' position once. SIGN MEAN... She then fingerspelled the rest. M-Y-L-E-S

His eyed widened. "You mean...?"

She nodded. MY FAMILY YOU JOIN, ME NAMESIGN GIVE.

Brad Leland voiced it for several of them. "Ok, I'm completely lost."

Only Jack was smiling along with Myles, though it was obvious that David Dillingham had caught pieces of it. Myles explained.

"She said that since I'm joining her family now, she's giving me my own namesign. It's a little like shorthand, so you don't have to fingerspell the name each time." He looked at her and signed THANK YOU. WONDERFUL GIFT.

"But what's it mean?" Her grandfather asked. "If I recall, namesigns include the initial and something particular to the individual. What was the movement at your shoulder, Connie?"

Jack Hudson was chuckling. "I know what it is."

Myles turned toward him. "What?"

His attention distracted, he didn't see Connie take a step toward him and pull aside one side of his jacket lapels. She pulled on the strap of the ever-present suspenders and let it snap back against his chest. "Ow! What the—?" Then it hit him as she smiled sweetly up at him. "Ohhh. Oh, _very_ funny, 'Sis.' Remind me to invite you to the next annual Leland snowball war."

Sam was thinking hard, repeating the sign a couple of times. Then he laughed as well. "Ah! Bro's legendary collection of suspenders. Of course."

Dimitrius came over and got the tray of boutonnieres she'd set on the small table by the door. "Well, gents, we'd best finish up here, or Liz will be walking down the aisle to an empty altar."

The others moved to pin the flowers on their jackets, but Myles stayed with Connie for a moment. THANK YOU, he signed again. MY HONOR.

She smiled and gave him a big hug and a kiss on his cheek. INSIDE MY FAMILY WELCOME, she replied silently. INSIDE MY HEART WELCOME.

* * *

&

* * *

_11 am_

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to mangle the bouquet of peace roses and baby's breath she was holding. Pachelbel's "Canon in D" was floating from the harp in the chapel, and Molly was halfway down the aisle with her basket of petals.

Her grandfather took her by the shoulders. "You ready?"

Elizabeth sighed, watching Sue step through the chapel doors. Lucy would follow, then Tara. "Does it make sense to say 'yes' and 'no,' and wholeheartedly mean both?"

David Dillingham chuckled. "Perfect sense. He's a good man, sweetheart. I couldn't have chosen finer for you myself."

She couldn't help but grin. "You're just saying that because he saved your life. Oh, and the fact that he graduated from your precious Harvard."

"There is that," he quipped in return. Then he gently kissed her cheek and lowered the single layer of veil over her face as Connie started down the aisle. "We're next."

* * *

&

* * *

Myles smiled to himself as he heard Jack's breath catch, followed not too distantly by Sam's. _Now if we can just convince Darcy to hog-tie Bobby... poor girl._

He was nervous, he was floating, he was happier than he'd ever been in his life, and he was terrified. He was surrounded by those who were closest to his heart, even though many of them had no idea how close. He saw Molly in her dress and realized how brief the time would be before she'd be a young woman in her own right, instead of the adorable imp who made him smile simply by rushing into a room.

Seth Adams leaned over to murmur, "You okay? You're not gonna bolt on me, are you?"

The tall agent chuckled. "I might, if I thought my feet would move. But I think I'll stick it out."

"I think you'll find it's worth it," the pastor smiled. "Take a look."

Myles turned as the audience stood, and he forgot to breathe. She seemed to glide down the aisle on her grandfather's arm, elegant and as stunningly beautiful as he'd seen her that first day in the coffee shop. He knew that this was the vision he had always, _would_ always, have of her.

Their eyes met as she reached the foot of the altar, and her smile dazzled him completely. _It's a good thing we opted to just let Reverend Adams do the hard part. I imagine any memorized vows would be gone about now._

He held out his hand, and she placed hers in his warm grip. David Dillingham nodded to his granddaughter, then took his seat as she stepped up onto the dais next to Myles.

"Please, be seated." Reverend Adams paused as people took their seats. "Friends, we gather together today, on the Lord's Sabbath, to witness the joining of two souls in holy matrimony. Myles and Elizabeth are making their promises to each other not only in the sight of God, but before you who will stand as witnesses of their demonstration of love. They have chosen as the scripture that will bind their lives, Ruth chapter one and verse sixteen: 'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.' Or, as Elizabeth told me when we spoke about the path these two have _already_ traveled to reach this point, 'Let peace begin with _us_.'"

Myles squeezed her hand gently, and watched her eyes glow in response.

"Most of you already know the story of their journey here, so I won't bore you with some long-winded sermon. Therefore, if any one can show just cause why these two should not be joined, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Silence pervaded the chapel, though Bobby did start to raise his hand until Myles shot him a look. The Aussie grinned and shook his head.

Seth watched the exchange with a smile. "Then if we have no further wise guys in attendance…" His quip sent a rustle of amusement through the chapel. "Myles, Elizabeth, please face each other and join your right hands."

She turned and handed her bouquet to Connie, then met the love in his eyes with her own.

"Elizabeth Catherine Anne Dillingham, do you take Myles Robert Leland the Third to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, vow to love and to cherish him, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?"

Her heart sang even as her voice shook. "I do."

"And do you, Myles Robert Leland the Third, take Elizabeth Catherine Anne Dillingham to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, vow to love and to cherish him, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?"

That velvet baritone made her melt. "I do."

"The ring symbolizes the infinite love of God for His children, and is exchanged as a visible reminder of the all-encompassing vow made here today. Let its unending circle be a reminder of your undying devotion to each other."

Sam held out the rings to them. Myles removed the engagement solitaire from her left hand and slipped it into the bridal set. He then took her left hand and slipped the ring back on.

"With this ring," he said, "as a symbol of my unending devotion, I thee wed, and pledge to you my troth for all our days."

Elizabeth took the brushed gold band from Sam's palm and slipped it onto Myles' finger. "With this ring, as a symbol of my unending devotion, I thee wed, and pledge to you my troth for all our days."

Seth smiled. "Inasmuch as Myles and Elizabeth have pledged their love to each other with sacred vows and the exchange of rings, I now pronounce them husband and wife, by the power vested in me by the District of Columbia. You may kiss your bride."

Her breath caught at the infinite tenderness mixed with pure joy that shone from his blue-grey eyes as he gently lifted her veil and let it settle down her back. He stroked her cheek, as he'd done so very many times, then tilted her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss spoke of so much to come, joys and sorrow, tears and mirth, and through it all the assurance that they would face it as one. She wrapped her arms around him and matched his pledge with her own.

"What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder." Seth's voice barely registered in her mind. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Myles Leland the Third."

They were swept up in a sea of hugs and good wishes.


	23. Ch 18: A Celebration of Love

**Chapter 18: A Celebration of Love

* * *

**

_The Garden House Reception Center, Arlington_

_Sunday, 1 May_

_3:45 pm_

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Gentle fingers drifted across her cheek.

Elizabeth stirred and looked up at her husband, who was smiling down at her. "How long did I sleep?" They'd changed into more comfortable clothes after the photographer finished, and Myles had insisted they come over to the reception center early so she'd have a chance for a break. Though she'd protested she didn't need one…

"_Sweetheart, you've been stressed out all morning, I bet you didn't eat breakfast, you barely touched your food at the luncheon, and you're going to be on your feet for possibly five hours tonight. You are going to lay down on that sofa, and you are going to get some rest so that the first threshold I carry you over isn't the ER."…_

She'd laughed at him, then meekly complied, warmed by his protectiveness of her already. Now she looked into his eyes and was warmed all over again.

"You've been out about an hour," he replied.

"An _hour_! Myles, that means the reception starts in _fifteen minutes!_ How could you—?" She shot up to a sitting position and was about to get to her feet when he grabbed her shoulders and sat down beside her.

"If you're going to immediately get worked up again," he smiled, "there was no sense in taking the nap in the first place."

"But—"

He placed a finger over her lips. "Your mother is downstairs in all her glory, it won't take us that long to get changed, and I managed to pilfer a few sandwiches from the buffet without getting my fingers chopped off by that snooty chef down there. You're _going_ to eat something."

"I—" She relented, and relaxed into his embrace. "Ok, I give up."

"Good," he chuckled, reaching over onto the side table nearby. "Because I also took the opportunity of your nap to go get this." He held up a Styrofoam cup with a straw poking out if it. "Raspberry mango smoothie from _Aileen's_."

Her face lit up. "Did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

Myles laughed. "Once or twice, I think." He kissed her gently, then stood and retrieved a plate from the dressing table in the room and brought it to her. "Now, you eat while I get changed, and then I'll get Tara to help you with your dress."

"What do I need Tara for, love?" At his slightly surprised look, she giggled. "You never struck me as _shy_."

He smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Oh. Old habits die hard, I guess. I'll help you if you want, of course."

"Always the gentleman." She set the plate aside for a moment and stepped into his arms. "I want. Now, hurry up so we can get this fiasco over with and get on with the rest of our lives." At his concerned glance, she smiled. "I don't really mean that, Myles. I don't want to remember it as a fiasco. I just…"

"I know. I feel the same way. It'll be fine. There are a lot of people looking to share our joy with us, and it seems only fair to indulge them. Besides, you have to show Richard Cohen that his dance lessons really weren't in vain."

She gave him a look, coupled with a half-smile. "I am _not_ going to tango in that dress. He'll have to settle for a waltz."

* * *

&

* * *

"I almost stopped breathing permanently when I saw you in that doorway this morning." He was buttoning up her dress as she re-did her hair and touched up her makeup. "You were a vision of heaven, sweetheart."

There was a rustle of satin as she turned to look up at him mischievously. "Well, I'm certainly glad I wasn't a _literal_ vision of heaven, love. You're not getting out of a marriage that easily."

"I don't want to. Not after all it took to get us here." He paused, sighed and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Do we _really_ have to go face this?"

Elizabeth laughed softly. "My mother has behaved herself through everything else. I think we owe her this much. Besides, can't waste a good 'Sam toast.'"

Myles chuckled. "That's what I'm afraid of." He finished the line of buttons up her back, then he straightened and watched her in the mirror, and a sly smile crossed his face. "You know," he said slowly. "With all the buttons on this dress, we may have to leave early just to guarantee we get _some_ sleep tonight."

Her brows shot up, and she matched his expression. "And what exactly makes you think I'm going to wear this traipsing all over DC tonight, instead of changing into something equally elegant but a lot less bulky?"

"Oh, no you don't." He stepped around to face her, still smiling, and touched his finger to the end of her nose. "You may change after we get to our hotel tonight, but you _are_ going to stay in it until we get there. If I did up the buttons, I claim the privilege of undoing them at a time and place of my own choosing."

She smiled, blushing a little. "Not even married a day, and he's ordering me around already. Fine, but you have to help me maneuver in this blasted train."

"Deal."

Elizabeth set the veil in place on her head, then took the hand he offered and stepped into his arms, pausing to extricate the yardage of her skirt from the vanity bench. "See?" she sighed. "Heaven help us if there's an emergency and I have to move fast."

"Not to worry," he quipped in reply, a wicked gleam in his eye, "I'll just sling you over my shoulder and carry you out."

She laughed softly, then put her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. "I think you'd like that _far_ too much, love." Enjoying the subtle heat building between them from their flirting, she ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him toward her as he captured her mouth.

After a few moments, they parted with equal sighs, and Myles stroked her cheek. "Well, as much as I'd rather stay right here, we'd best get down there before your mother comes after us."

* * *

&

* * *

_5:30pm_

Elizabeth leaned over to Myles at a break in the receiving line; some distant Dillingham cousin had moved on to her grandfather and mother, and Ted Garrett was just stepping up to talk with Robert and Anne.

"Thank you for making me rest earlier, love. I'd probably be ready to pass out on you by now."

Myles chuckled. "Exactly. And I had no intention of facing this alone, believe me. How many cousins do you _have_, anyway?"

"I have no idea," she responded, rolling her eyes, "I half-suspect that Mother pegged half these people as 'family' just so I'd let her invite them."

With two hundred people invited, a two-hour receiving line hadn't seemed excessive; now, she just wanted to sit down. Even with tennis shoes on under her dress, her feet were killing her. Thankfully, they were into the last half-hour.

"Myles." Ted Garrett greeted his agent with a hearty clap on the shoulder. "Congratulations. It's about time this lady snagged you for good. We can always use help keeping you out of trouble."

"Ha, ha," Myles replied good-naturedly. "Thanks, Ted. We're glad you could make it."

"And glad the team didn't get called on a case," Elizabeth leaned over to greet the big man as well. "It would have been a whole lot smaller wedding otherwise."

"There were a couple of other units available," Garrett shrugged. "I figured we'd use them first, if we had to. Congratulations, Dr. Dilling… I mean, Mrs. Leland." He moved on, and the psychologist caught the expression her mother tried to hide as the supervisor greeted her.

Myles noticed it as well. "A bit of prejudice there?" he asked in concern.

"No," Elizabeth said darkly, "or, not the way you think. It's more of a social thing than a racial one. I've been watching her around your co-workers; her reaction is identical. If she says _one word_ to any of them, I'm going to—"

"Defend the poor 'civil servants'? I'd love to hear _that_ discussion."

Fortunately, it appeared that Mary Dillingham knew her daughter was keeping an eye on her; she was very gracious to Ted Garrett, and he moved to greet the team at their table.

Things progressed without incident for the next twenty minutes; Elizabeth sighed as she saw the line suddenly die down. A few stragglers would undoubtedly come find them later, but she could finally sit down and relax a little.

"See, 'Big O,' I told you that fashionably late would be just fine."

Myles bit back a groan as Howie Fines waltzed in with his "business partner." Otis he could deal with; the big man was a pretty decent guy at heart, and much easier to take than Howie's constant prattle.

"You must be Myles' dad." The snitch was pumping Robert Leland's hand enthusiastically. "I can't tell you how great it is to work with your son's team. Being a part of taking down all that's corrupt in this world is just _so _satisfying, ya know? You must be very proud."

Robert glanced over at Myles, a highly confused look on his face, but Anne, ever gracious, answered, "Yes, thank you. We are indeed, Mr…?"

"Fines. Howie Fines. 'You need it, Howie Fines it.' I wrote that myself." He kissed Anne's hand with a flourish, then looked at the slim timepiece on her wrist. "Y'know, if you're ever in the market for a new watch, I know a guy who—"

He stopped abruptly as Otis poked him in the arm and indicated in front of Howie.

"Myles! Liz!" Howie opened his arms wide as if he'd embrace the whole world. "I can't say how happy I am for you two! Love is such a wonderful thing!"

Otis rolled his eyes. "Yeah, he blubbered through half the ceremony, and he ain't shut up about it since."

The snitch looked insulted. "Can I help it if I'm the sentimental type? Look, kids, I just wanted to say…" His voice broke, and he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Myles was holding very still, not sure exactly what to expect. Elizabeth was trying to hold back a grin.

Suddenly, Howie flung his arms around Myles' waist and hugged him hard. "It's a beautiful thing, man! You two kids… finally tying the knot, after all you've been through! I just wish all the best for you! I love you guys!"

Elizabeth couldn't decide which struck her funnier— the exasperated expression on Myles' face, or the disgusted one on Otis'. But she was almost strangling from keeping only a pleasant smile on her own. Then, she heard her mother's voice.

"Honestly! Such a display." Mary was whispering to her father-in-law. "That my oldest daughter is marrying a man who regularly associates with this… this _riffraff_! I mean, Harvard is one thing, but—"

"Mary," David Dillingham replied softly, but with a touch of reproach, "shut up."

Elizabeth heard material rustle as her mother drew back in shock. Still, she silently cheered her grandfather and couldn't resist the thought that entered her head as Howie finally released Myles and stepped over to her.

"Howie," she whispered as she returned his hug, "I think my mother could use a hug, too. And a full dose of your unique charm."

"Of course," he replied, oblivious, "always happy to spread the Fines magic around. Don't you worry none, Liz. I'll make her feel welcome."

Myles leaned over as the snitch moved on. "You are a wicked, wicked woman," he laughed softly. "Come on; I think perhaps we'd better put some distance from your mother before Howie gets done."

* * *

&

* * *

_7:00 pm_

It was a good thing he'd grabbed her something to eat earlier as well; the rate they were going… Elizabeth sighed as someone yet again began the chorus of crystal-tapping that demanded a kiss between the bride and groom. It hadn't been an actual part of the wedding plans; it just seemed to happen. Myles had commented that it was undoubtedly the brainchild of a certain Aussie…

"Getting tired of me already?" Myles murmured against her lips.

"Never," she whispered back. " But I really hope you grabbed something to eat during that break as well. Otherwise, you may be the one passing out on me."

"Believe me," he laughed, "this is nothing compared to a few cases we've been on. Besides, I ate lunch. Just relax, and we'll have a quiet, light dinner at the hotel later."

At a nearby table, Sam was shredding a napkin and mumbling to himself amidst an animated conversation between the rest of the team, Darcy, Donna and Connie. Molly was perched on Tara's lap, listening with rapt attention.

Sue sighed and turned to Connie, who was also looking very confused at the chaos of talk going on. WE BOTHER WHY? she signed to the redhead.

NO CLUE, Connie replied, grinning. THINK SOMETHING WITH DARK-HAIR CUTE A-G-E-N-T.

KEEP UP HIM, Sue rolled her eyes, ME THINK AGAIN CUTE PART.

The redhead smirked. AHA! She wagged a finger at Sue. YOU DO LIKE HIM I THINK I THINK! Connie glanced at the group again. TALK THEM CAN. SOMEONE MIGHT REMEMBER US LATER. WE CAN HAVE OUR OWN PARTY.

TRUE. WEDDING PARTY WE NOT IN, OTHER DEAF PEOPLE I SEE HERE, WE GO TALK. Sue's gaze was a little wistful.

YES, SEVERAL DEAF FRIENDS WE HAVE HERE. AFTER PARTY, WE GO MEET THEM. Connie smiled. ME THINK S-A-M RUN, BEFORE TOAST.

Sue looked over. "Sam? You ok?"

Sam Leland looked up from a second shredded napkin and nodded slightly. He then signed 2-O-O and swept his hand to indicate the room.

"Two hundred what?"

He tried again, pointing directly at several people around the room.

"Oh." Sue smiled. "You knew how big a group it would be when you agreed to be Myles' best man, didn't you?"

"It didn't sound like such a big crowd in theory. Now that I see them, though…" He rested his elbow on the table, propped his chin in it, and heaved a sigh as he surveyed the crowded room again.

His comments had brought the rest of the group's attention back, and there were several sheepish SORRY signs aimed at Sue and Connie.

Tara rubbed his arm. "It'll be okay, Sam. Your toast isn't for any of these people; it's for Myles and Liz. Just focus on them."

"Yeah, but I have to _face_ everybody." He gulped as his father gave him a signal. "Oh, boy."

"Just remember to keep breathing, Sam," Bobby offered. "As long as you're on your feet still, there's hope."

"Such help you are." He got to his feet, and made his way over to the microphone. A young man stepped up beside him— the interpreter they'd made sure was available for both the ceremony and the reception.

Sam took a deep breath and pulled out the note card he'd written his toast out on. He stared at it for a long moment, then cleared his throat and looked up.

Myles could feel his own mouth go dry as he watched his twin; this was the biggest crowd Sam had faced since… He could feel his twin start to shrink back, and mentally grabbed him to hold him in place. _Sam, forget about being eloquent. I didn't ask you to do this for any other reason than you are the person I wanted standing right beside me for this. Just say what's in your heart._

Their eyes met for a moment, and Sam nodded. Glancing at the interpreter, who had been given a copy of the written toast, he shrugged and tossed his own card over his shoulder. "Wing it," he murmured as the young man laughed.

"Okay," he said, his heart skipping as he heard his voice echo through the reception hall, "I had this real fancy toast all written out, but if I try to read it to all of you, I'm either gonna pass out or get sick, and you all probably don't want to witness either." He glanced over at the interpreter who, amazingly, was only a couple seconds behind him. "So I'm gonna go off-book, and those of you depending on Matthew here will have to forgive me if he needs to deck me to get me to slow down."

The ripple of amusement that flowed over the room seemed to relax him a little, and he took the glass of champagne Tara discreetly handed to him and raised it slightly.

"Uh… oh, heck." He turned to is twin and new sister-in-law and raised the glass higher. "Bro', Liz… I can't think of two people who are better for each other and more deserving of all the happiness in the world. So I'll borrow Bro's New Year's toast and we can get this over with: Here's to the beginning of forever, you two, and to only happy dreams ahead."

As a chorus of "here, here" rolled around the room, and Myles raised his own glass in a smiling response, Sam sank back into his chair and breathed a sigh of relief. "Tara, would you object if we just loaded your folks, my folks, Bro and Liz, Gregory and a minister into the Citation and found a deserted island somewhere?"

Tara laughed. "Tell you what. Why don't we opt for something about half this size and much less formal. Could you handle that?"

"I think so. If we can get some sedatives."

Dimitrius chuckled. "Guess you better not have it outdoors, Tara. Too many escape routes."

"No, no. Fresh air is good." Sam toyed with his napkin. "Really good."

* * *

&_

* * *

8:00 pm_

"Richard, thank you for enduring my dance lessons," Elizabeth smiled as the instructor led her off the floor toward Myles. "They paid off eventually."

Richard Cohen laughed. "I think you've finally found a partner who doesn't make you nervous," he replied.

"True." She took the hand her husband held out to her and kissed his cheek. "Although, I'm starting to wonder if right now I have _reason_ to be nervous around him, since we're headed for that mountain of frosted calories next."

Myles tilted his head toward Richard with a grin. "She's so paranoid."

The dance instructor laughed heartily. "I think I've had more than enough of you two for a lifetime, so I'm getting out of the crossfire. Congratulations, both of you."

"Thanks, Richard." Elizabeth smiled as Molly ran up to them. "Hey, princess," she said, borrowing Myles' nickname for his niece. "Are you having fun?"

"Yup!" The little girl's eyes were shining. "I got to dance with Bobby. He's _soooo_ cute!"

The psychologist laughed as Myles rolled his eyes. Then she held out a hand to Molly. "Well, do you think you can get away from him for a minute to come protect me? I think your uncle here is planning some 'frosting art.'"

"Ooh! You're gonna cut the wedding cake?" Molly leveled a glare at Myles and shook her finger. "You be nice, Uncle Myles. Grandma says."

Myles laughed. "Why does everyone automatically assume that _I'm_ the one they have to worry about?" He pulled Elizabeth close and stroked her cheek. "I think you've just built up a world of paranoia about _me_ so that everyone will be sympathetic when _you_ do the 'frosting art.'"

Her green eyes sparkled at him. "I guess it's time to find out, huh?"

Molly led the way as they stepped over to a the table where a four-tier wedding cake topped with yellow and pink roses almost sparkled, thanks to a dusting of sugar after it had been frosted. A bride and groom waltzing graced the very top.

His hand closed warm over hers on the cake knife, and he murmured in her ear. "Tell you what— I'll be nice if you will."

Elizabeth smiled. "I'm glad you trust me that much."

"Do I have reason _not_ to?"

They sliced out a small piece onto a napkin, then cut it in half. Myles picked up one half and held it just a little ways from her mouth. A small voice caused laughter to start around the room again:

"Uncle Myles, _you be good_!"

He chuckled and looked into his wife's eyes, then very gently allowed her to take a bite of it. He didn't move until she'd drawn back, then tapped the tip of her nose with his still-frosted finger. He wiped it away with a kiss as a chorus of "awws" floated over from the team.

Elizabeth picked up the other piece and looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her verdant eyes. He raised a finger. "We had a deal, love."

She smiled. "Did we? I don't recall actually agreeing." Then she held the cake up to him. "I guess there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"Aww, get it over with, Myles," Bobby called across the room.

Myles laughed again, then took a bite of the cake warily, catching her hand just as she smeared frosting across his cheek. "Nice try," he managed with his mouth full. "Bu' tha's as far as…" he had to swallow "…you're getting."

She giggled, then got part of the frosting with a kiss that left his pulse jumping. She reached for a napkin to get the rest. "That's all I was going to do, love," she whispered.

Molly skipped back over. "Does this mean I can have a piece of cake now?"

"Oh, definitely." Myles swooped her up in his arms and gave Elizabeth a wicked grin. "Don't you think so, sweetheart?"

She smiled. "Oh, yes." She ran her finger along the edge of the cake until she had a small dollop of frosting built up.

Molly squealed. "No, no!" But she was giggling when her new aunt caught her chin with the frosting, then smeared it up one cheek to her nose as everyone laughed.

* * *

&

* * *

Jack Hudson was shaking his head and smiling as he watched all the antics going on. He'd known Myles Leland for the better part of eight years, and this was the first time he'd ever seen the Harvard grad completely open, with no sign of the mask he usually wore around the rest of them.

"Hard to believe that's the same up-himself show pony we've all come to know and love, isn't it?" Bobby's voice made him turn.

"In English, please?"

The Aussie laughed. "Ten years as best mates, and you haven't learned the lingo yet? I was saying that it's hard to believe that's the same arrogant, get-ahead bloke we've gotten used to dealing with."

"I know." Jack eyed his friend. "So did you finish setting up the panic attack that's finally going to kill him? You know what a pain it is to break in a new guy."

"Quit worryin'. Sam made me put a layer of plastic wrap on any painted surface I was decorating. Do you really believe I'd truly desecrate a Jaguar XJ-6?" Bobby suddenly smiled. "Now, _here's_ the interesting portion of the evening."

A group of women were congregated on the dance floor; at one end, Elizabeth Leland was preparing to throw her bouquet. A little maneuvering seemed to be going on with a few faces Jack recognized. He turned to Bobby, a slightly panicked look in his dark eyes. "Bobby, what did you and Lucy cook up?" _Because if it's what I think it is, you'd best put those long legs in gear, 'cause when I catch up with you…_

The Aussie held up his hands. "Whoa, Sparky. I swear to you, there's nothing going on that Lucy or I masterminded. Will you relax?"

Jack glared at him a moment longer; his best friend seemed perfectly sincere. "Sorry, Crash," he finally said. "I just figured it was an opportunity—"

"We couldn't pass up? Come on; you know me better than that. Would I pick something so obvious?"

They watched quietly as Elizabeth turned around and tossed the bouquet over her shoulder— directly into Sue's arms. A chorus of squeals and ASL teasing had her cheeks darker than her dress again.

Jack raised a brow at Bobby. The Aussie put on his most innocent look. "Circumstantial evidence at best, Sparky. You're a better agent than that." He grinned. "Gents' turn."

"I don't think so." Jack planted his feet as far into the plush carpet as he could.

"Aww, come on, Jack. If I can brave the outside chance of risking my very contented single existence, you can at least stand by my side for the sake of our teammate. Besides, I plan on hiding out at the back anyway." Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. "I mean, you've seen Myles at the range. What are the odds?"

Jack chuckled; Bobby knew full well that the blond agent was a sharpshooter just like the rest of them. Still, at the back of the crowd, with his admittedly shorter stature, the odds were pretty slim.

"Oh, all right. But we stay at the back."

"Righto." Bobby led the way.

The Aussie had been completely honest; neither he nor Lucy had masterminded any of this. But what he _hadn't_ told Jack was that Myles had dragged him over to this very reception center just yesterday afternoon (ok, so the Harvard grad hadn't had to pull _that_ hard). They'd spent two hours practicing, and marked the exact spots for angle and distance. All Myles had to do was make sure he put just the right amount of force into the snap of the garter.

"I think we're pretty well out of range here." Bobby stopped so that Jack's shiny dress shoes covered the tiny piece of red tape on the grey carpet.

At the front of the crowd, Elizabeth had pulled her dress up just above her knee, and Myles was sliding the delicate white garter with its blue ribbon down her leg. He straightened and surveyed the crowd, catching Bobby's glance for only a split-second. He grinned and turned around.

The shot went as straight as if he'd used his .45; it flew up over the entire crowd of leaping hopefuls and came to rest right on Jack's left shoulder. He'd turned back around as soon as he let go, and now he watched as his unit leader fixed a glare at him. Myles shrugged innocently and then gave Jack a wicked grin. BAD THROW, he signed. B-O-B-B-Y ME THROW. SORRY.

Jack picked up the garter and shook it at Myles. I THINK NOT, he replied. HONEYMOON YOU RETURN, ME GET YOU MORE BETTER.

Myles laughed. ME NOT AFRAID, FUNNY GUY YOU.

"Well," Elizabeth smiled innocently as well. "It is tradition that the 'winners' share a dance before we leave you all. Jack, Sue…?"

Sue was red to her toes; Jack wasn't far behind. Still, he walked over to her and held out his hand. "We've been set up," he said and signed TRICKED THEM-US.

"You think?" Then she couldn't help but smile, glancing at the team. "I suppose they mean well."

Jack wasn't quite ready to forgive just yet, but he returned her smile as he started mentally plotting revenge. He sighed. WE DANCE, PLEASE?

As they stepped onto the dance floor, Myles leaned over to his wife and whispered in her ear, "Our work here is done; can we leave now?"

She laughed. "Gladly. Especially before my mother gets over 'Howie shock' and comes after me. I hope that wherever you planned on us hiding out for a month, it's a fair distance from here. We may need it."

* * *

&

* * *

"Breathe, love."

He wasn't sure the nerves were still working enough for that. He stared at the car, and his tie suddenly felt about two inches tighter. "My… the… Jag…"

Bobby was discreetly hiding behind Dimitrius, who turned and murmured, "You might want to move your desk within the next month. I can see if they need an extra agent in the Anchorage office."

Sam walked over to his twin. "Whoa, bro – take a breath, 'cause you're starting to choke me off, too. It's safe; there's a layer of plastic wrap between the shaving cream and the paint job. Even 'Waltzing Matilda' over there isn't crazy enough to hurt this car for real."

Elizabeth laughed as she pulled Myles toward the car. "Maybe I'd better drive, love. You don't look like you're feeling up to it."

The quip was enough to get him breathing again, and he smiled down at her. "In _that_ skirt, sweetheart? You'd never find the gearshift under all that satin." He then surveyed the crowd. "Manning, this car had better be in its original pristine condition when I get back, or—"

"It'll be fine," Sam gave him a push. "You have other things to think about now. I'll pick up the car at the airport tomorrow like we planned, and it'll be clean by sunset. Now get your bride and get outta here before Jack finds a way to rescind your leave." He leaned over and kissed Elizabeth on the cheek. "He's all yours now, sis. Take care of him for me, huh?"

She smiled. "Not all mine; but I will, Sam. I promise."

The dark green sports car pulled out, amid a sea of cheering and the clatter of a few tin cans tied onto the back. The sentiment in the back window said it all:

_Just Married – The Beginning of Forever._


	24. Epilogue

**Author's note: This series of scenes is included for a reason - a loose end that needed to be taken care of before our lovely couple can ride off into the sunset... I've tried to craft it with as much taste and delicacy as I could.

* * *

**

**Epilogue: Forsaking All Others

* * *

**

_City Center Radisson Hotel_

_10 p.m._

Elizabeth sat at the dressing table in the bedroom, brushing her dark hair out in long, even strokes, and trying desperately to calm the pounding of her heart. The day had been a blur; the only clear memories she had of the past 14 hours were a voice— "I now pronounce you husband and wife"— and the look in Myles' eyes as he'd lifted her veil to kiss her.

Elizabeth Catherine Anne _Leland_. The name change would take a little getting used to, after thirty-four years of saying "Dillingham," but she was more than ready to spend a lifetime adjusting.

_If I can just get through tonight,_ she thought ruefully. She gave her reflection a stern look, and the brush flew through her hair as she chided herself. _Here I sit, on my wedding night, finally married to a man I could no more stop loving than I could stop myself breathing, and I'm hiding like some terrified adolescent._

She shook the brush at her reflection. "Enough," she said aloud. "Get yourself out there and start _enjoying_ being married to the man of your dreams." She stood, smoothed down her dress and walked resolutely toward the door.

* * *

&

* * *

Myles leaned on the balcony railing, looking out at a sparkling late-night Washington, D.C., and smiling to himself. A big part of the smile was for the fact that today he had finally married a lady who filled his soul, fired his passions (not just the romantic ones), and would very likely keep him on his toes for the rest of his life. 

The _other_ part was a gentle amusement that this same beautiful, stubborn, wonderfully sweet lady was, at this moment, essentially hiding from him.

It wasn't totally unexpected; they were both pretty much exhausted, and he'd already known she'd be nervous. So he'd undone the buttons on her dress so she could change into something casual, then left her to herself for a few minutes. They had the rest of their lives; he wasn't going to rush things.

The truth be told, he was a little nervous himself, thanks to a conversation a few months back. The mess with Graham had not only driven her to sleep in his guest room more than once, it had given him nightmares as well. One night the two collided, and she'd been there to help him through the panic attack, hold him while he cried out his frustration and fear, then gently chide him for apologizing about it. She had fallen asleep next to him after they had talked some more, and the next morning…

_A soft moan escaped her lips, and she whispered something too softly for him to make out as he stirred and looked over at her. Myles started to wake her, thinking she was having a nightmare as well, then stopped when he heard the sigh that followed. A smile touched his lips; he knew that sigh all too well, having had a few dreams of his own like that. …_

_"Good morning."_

_She gasped again, then looked over her shoulder at him._ _"Where_ _did you learn that?"_

_"What?"_

_"That velvet baritone purr that just about buckles my knees every time you use it on me."_

_His smile turned into a mischievous grin. "I don't think my voice had anything to do with it this morning. Nice dream?"_

_She felt her face grow warm, and her eyes dropped. "You could say that," she said quietly._

_Myles slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "I hope I was in it." He purposely tried to keep his voice a little more neutral, but he couldn't resist teasing her._

_Her breath came out in a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "Of course_ _you were in it. You're the only man I've ever even come close_ _to—" She stopped abruptly._

_"You mean...ever?" It wasn't that he was shocked, just...well, maybe that was a good word at the moment._

_Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks coloring again almost to the deep pink of her Oriental-patterned silk pajamas. "Well, a couple of guys in college_ _tried_, _but…yes, ever. It's just…I remember having a conversation with my grandmother when I was about 15. She wasn't really prudish, but she felt very strongly about some things, and she made sure I knew it. I'll tell you, it was a strange feeling, discussing human intimacy with her."_

_He laughed softly. "I can imagine, at age 15."_

"_Anyway," she continued, "the one thing I remember most was her saying that it was the most wonderful thing God had ever created, and that it was worth waiting for the right person to share it with. And not just_ _finding_ _the right person; it was worth waiting for the vow to go along with it."_

_He was silent for a minute, resting his cheek against her hair. The initial shock had given way to something else; a bit of awe that there really were still "old-fashioned girls" out there, and he'd been fortunate enough to find one. …_

Myles shook his head, still a bit in awe over that. But, at the same time, he couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that this intelligent, refined woman was currently a bit…afraid…of _him_.

"Now, I sincerely hope that my new husband isn't standing out here laughing at me."

Myles turned and saw Elizabeth standing there, her arms crossed, giving him a mock glare. Her green eyes were alight with resigned laughter.

"I would never laugh _at_ you, sweetheart," he replied softly. "I was laughing _near_ you."

"My word," she breathed, "you look like James Bond, casually leaned against the railing in that tux, with your tie loose and those two shirt studs undone…" He raised his eyebrows at her, and she shook her head slightly. "By the way, I saw that movie, too, love, and I don't think the context is quite the same."

Her green eyes dropped for a minute, even as she took the hand he extended and stepped over to him. "Actually," she said softly, "I wouldn't blame you if you _were_ laughing at me. I would be. A grown woman, hiding in the other room on her wedding night."

Myles gently lifted her chin so that she was looking at him again. "Fear of the unknown is a perfectly human response, love."

"Yes, well, maybe I'd feel better about it if we were at least on the same level of 'unknown.'" She started to pull away, but he refused to let her, drawing her fully into his arms.

"Is _that_ what you're worried about?" he asked, his breath coming out in a laugh. "Sweetheart, I can count my intimate experiences on one hand. And they don't fill up the whole hand, even. In fact, one of them shouldn't count at all, because I was so drunk I don't think I was physically _capable_ of anything."

"I—"

He placed a finger on her lips. "Elizabeth, I married you because _I love you_. Those words have never come easily from my lips, not until I met you. I would sooner take my own life than hurt you intentionally, in any way."

Tears of joy filled her eyes, and she reached up to touch his cheek. "I know. And I feel the same way. I love you so much, it's all I can do at times to refrain from shouting it to the whole world. I'm sorry I'm being so silly about this."

"You're not being silly," he said gently, tracing his fingers over her face and then tangling them in her dark hair. "It's been a very full day. I think we're both still reeling a little, and we have a bit of traveling yet to do tomorrow. Let's just relax for awhile, have dinner, and actually take a minute to let everything sink in. I don't know about you, Dr. Dillingham, but I'm still adjusting."

"Apparently." Her genuine laugh relieved him greatly. "Since you've already forgotten that it's Dr. _Leland_ now."

Myles' expression went serious for a moment. "Are you really sure about that? Won't it confuse your patients, your research colleagues?"

Elizabeth gave him a gentle look. "My love, what do you think I was doing during the nearly five months we were engaged? I wanted everyone to be clear on it before we actually got married." She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "I'm your wife now. I have willingly taken _your_ name, and I want the whole world to know it."

He had no answer for that, simply drew her closer to him and kissed her tenderly. When he released her, she tilted her head sideways, a mischievous smile brightening her face.

"So, when are you going to tell me where it is we're traveling _to_?"

Myles laughed. "When there is no longer any _possible_ way to keep it from you. Which probably means when we get to the gate at Dulles tomorrow."

* * *

&

* * *

After a light dinner, Elizabeth sat down on the sofa in the hotel suite, drew her feet up under her, and folded her arms on the back of it, resting her chin on her arms and smiling. She watched as Myles attempted to open a bottle of wine for them; the cork was being difficult, and his concentration allowed her a moment to study him unobserved. 

_Study _was probably the perfect word, for the sheer complexity of him; she knew that a lifetime wouldn't be enough to figure him out completely, but she would certainly have fun trying. For now she just watched him— from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him, he'd captured her attention, and it hadn't taken long at all for her heart to follow.

She knew there were a lot of women who wouldn't call him handsome, not in the 'drop-dead movie star gorgeous' context, but he took her breath away. Tall, broad shoulders and chest tapering down to a lean waist and hips; the blond hair with just a touch of a wave to it, and the strong facial features. The warmth of his arms could comfort her like nothing else, and his slender fingers left her skin tingling every time he touched her. She could get lost in his blue-grey eyes, his deep voice could make her melt or stop a perpetrator cold, and his lips…

_Dear heavens, what am I afraid of? _Elizabeth's smile widened as he finally won the battle with the cork and walked toward her with two glasses of wine in his hands. He'd been right; a chance to stop and let the events of the day sink in had relaxed her considerably, and she welcomed the warmth that spread over her as he sat down and gave her a soul-penetrating gaze.

"Good thoughts?" He handed her a glass and sat down, stretching one arm across the back of the sofa and smiling at her.

Elizabeth moved over into his embrace, snuggling against his shoulder. "Very good."

"I certainly hope so," he grinned. "From the way you were staring at me, I was starting to wonder."

She started a little, then laughed softly. "I forget that you're used to being able to tell when you're being watched. And here I thought I was being so sneaky."

"Hazards of the job. Besides, you were so lost in thought, I don't think you realized I was watching you in return for about half of that time. I was curious as to what could bring such a smile to your face."

She felt her face grow warm, but didn't look down this time, just reached up and began to run her fingers through his hair. "How about I tell you later?"

Myles gave her another deep look, then very gently took both wineglasses and set them on the table behind the sofa. "I have something for you. Well, something I want you to hear." He stood up and went over to the CD player tucked into a corner cabinet in the suite. He flipped it on, and chose a track from the CD that was apparently already in there. Then he walked back over to her and extended a hand. "Will you dance with me?"

"Always." She let him draw her to her feet; then a soft laugh escaped her. "You're not going to make me tango again, are you? Your luck can only hold out so long."

"As I recall, that last tango turned out rather well," he replied softly, giving her a look that made her tremble from head to toe. "You just needed a partner you trust. I hope that never changes, sweetheart."

Elizabeth slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, and moved very close to him. "I wouldn't have any other," she whispered. "What's this you want me to hear?"

"Well," he said, "fair warning first: it's a country song."

Her eyebrows went straight up. "Aren't you the one who told me that country is the 'soap opera' of the music world?"

"You hush," he chuckled. "You'll understand when you hear it. I came across it a few months back when the guys were hanging out at Jack's place. We were supposed to watch a game, but his cable went out. I got thumbing through his CD collection and found this. The lyrics were perfect— you almost got serenaded when I proposed. But I thought, if you said yes—"

She laughed, her eyes going very bright. "As if you had any chance of getting a refusal."

"— that I would sing it for you on our wedding night." He reached over and pressed the play button. The opening strains of a soft ballad filled the room. Myles pulled her close and they began to dance. He kept his eyes locked with hers, and his deep voice filled her soul:

_I'll admit I could feel it the first time that we touched,_

_And the look in your eyes said you felt as much._

_But I'm not a man who falls too easily,_

_It's best that you know where you stand with me._

_I will give you my heart, faithful and true_

_And all the love it can hold— that's all I can do._

_I've thought about how long I'll love you;_

_And it's only fair that you know,_

_Forever's as far as I'll go._

_When there's age around my eyes, and grey in your hair,_

_And it only takes a touch to recall the love we share_

_I won't take for granted, you'll know my love is true_

'_Cause each night, in your arms, I will whisper to you:_

_I will give you my heart, faithful and true_

_And all the love it can hold— that's all I can do._

'_Cause I've thought about how long I'll love you;_

_And it's only fair that you know,_

_Forever's as far as I'll go._

_Forever's as far as I'll go._

(Alabama, "Forever's as Far as I'll Go" , from _Pass It on Down_)

The music stopped; they stood there for a moment, gazing at each other. Silent tears were running down her face, and there was moisture in his eyes threatening to spill over as well. Finally, he let out a breath. "Please. Say _something._ I know my singing isn't—"

Elizabeth cut him off with a shake of her head. WORD NOT ENOUGH she signed. AND YOU SING BEAUTIFUL.

There was no confusion in his expression, and a rather shy smile lit his face. THANK YOU, he signed in reply. YOU BEAUTIFUL ME KNOW. IN SONG ME MEAN EVERY WORD. I LOVE YOU.

"Wow," she teased gently. "You're getting good. Amazing what happens when you give up fighting it, huh?"

Myles raised a brow at her, his eyes bright with amusement. "You keep it up, young lady, and I might just have to take you over my knee."

Slim hands slid down his shoulders and arms, then wrapped around his waist. "I'd like to see you try it," she replied, her voice low and soft.

Elizabeth watched his eyes darken, but he was still hesitant. _My lead tonight. He's waiting for me to let him know it's really all right, _she realized, and the realization deepened her love for him even more. _Okay._

She stretched up and kissed him, reveling in the feel of his embrace and the way their bodies fit together. Her hands caressed his back, and she felt a shiver run right up his spine.

When their lips parted, she held his gaze and drew her hands around to his shirt, slowly undoing the last three studs. He didn't move, just looked at her, seeming to drink in her very soul. She pulled the shirt free of his trousers, then let her fingertips run lightly over his skin before flattening her hands against his back once more.

He gasped, and an almost violent shiver took him. Elizabeth drew her hands away in surprise. "What?" she asked in concern. "What did I do?"

Myles pulled her back into an embrace before she could back away. "Nothing," he chuckled softly. "It's all right."

She couldn't help but laugh in return, although she was completely confused. "If a simple touch can do all that…how's your cholesterol level, dear? I'd hate for you to end up in the ER from a heart attack on our wedding night."

"You're going to get that spanking yet," he countered roguishly, then took both of her hands in his and kissed her fingers. " I just…your hands are freezing. I just wasn't expecting it, is all."

"Oh!" Now she truly laughed. "Sorry. I guess I'm still a little nervous."

"It's all right," was the deep reply. "If it helps at all— so am I." He squeezed her hands and guided them back around his waist. Then he placed a hand on each of her cheeks, tracing her features with his fingers, exploring her ears, her neck. He bent to kiss the hollow of her collarbone, and she responded with a sigh, her lips finding the soft skin just beneath his ear.

_Sweet mercy, she's intoxicating_… and if he didn't find a gentle way to take control of the situation in short order, all his good intentions of savoring their first time together would go right out the window in a wave of heat. The last time she'd touched his bare skin, it had taken a mental image of Arlene to get him out of trouble. He didn't want to back up quite that far this time, but he needed to do something.

Her hands had drifted back up his chest and around his neck, and now he took them gently and backed her up against the wall, pinning her hands over her head with one of his own as he stroked her cheek with the other.

"Patience, love," he murmured, smiling. "We have all the time in the world."

His words exploded in her head and became another voice; _You will beg me to kill you, and then you will die. It is simply a matter of time, my beautiful creature. And we have all the time in the world. _A dark shadow flickered across her eyes, and an involuntary shudder swept through her, one that had nothing to do with his touch. A cry escaped her lips, and he felt her cringe against the wall.

Myles looked at her for a moment, puzzled; then he realized the position they were in. His eyes widened and he drew back from her as if he'd been burned. "Oh, Elizabeth, oh, I'm sorry…I forgot…"

She grabbed his arm before he could retreat. "Myles, come here. It's all right."

"All right?" he said hoarsely, his eyes betraying his anguish. "Elizabeth, I totally forgot about what Graham did to you…" His eyes closed tightly, and his head dropped. "Dear Lord in Heaven, how could I—?"

"Stop." She placed a hand on each of his cheeks and made him face her. "Myles, stop." When he finally stopped trying to pull away, she drew him close and gently brushed at the tears in the corners of his eyes. "Hold me, please."

He hesitated.

"Myles, please. I need to feel your arms around me," she repeated. He complied, and held her tightly, drawing her face against his chest and clinging to her as if she were his only lifeline out of hell itself. He rested his cheek against her dark hair, and the utter sadness in his voice brought tears to her eyes as well.

"I'm so sorry."

She pushed away from his chest and looked deeply up into his eyes. "Myles. _Listen_ to me. I'm the one who's sorry. Dr. Sutherland warned me about this, said I might very well still have some flashbacks, especially… well, especially tonight. I'd forgotten all about it myself until just now."

"You _knew_ this could happen?" His eyes widened again. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have—"

She cut him off, smiling radiantly through unshed tears. "You would have been a nervous wreck, and you probably wouldn't have come within ten feet of me. I was nervous enough about tonight without worrying about you, too. That's why I didn't tell you, love. I'm sorry. But I'm fine….really. It was just a momentary thing."

"Are you sure?" His eyes searched hers. "Are you really sure?"

"Myles," she answered softly, "I want _your_ touch to be what sweeps all that away. For good." She gave him a stern look and shook a finger at him. "I will _not _have Evan Graham haunt something I want to share with you, alone."

His breath came out in a short laugh. "Well, if you're resorting to throwing my own words back at me…" He gently lowered his mouth to hers, taking his time to let the flashback fade. She sighed and wound her fingers into his hair again, deepening their kiss until it was a mating of lips, teeth, tongues…

Elizabeth pulled back just slightly and looked up into his eyes, then tugged gently on the collar of his shirt. Her voice was soft with love. "And forsaking all others, I give myself to thee."

He smiled and took her hand, leading her toward the nearby door. "Forsaking all others," he responded tenderly.

* * *

&

* * *

Elizabeth laid her cheek against the warmth of his chest and silently thanked her grandmother for her wisdom. She'd never dreamed that loving could be so heart-breakingly gentle and so incredibly passionate at the same time. That the man by her side would be the only one she'd share such a treasure with brought tears of joy to the corners of her eyes. 

A slender finger caught the one tear that broke free onto her cheek. "Now there's something no man ever wants to see," an amused voice murmured softly against her hair. "Especially in this situation."

"Tears of joy, love," she replied with a smile. "What else could they be, after such a gift? Thank you for being all I could ever dream of."

He stroked her cheek, searching deep in her emerald eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied with a smile. "More than fine. Wonderful. I love you, Myles Leland."

He raised a brow; she laughed and added, "The Third."

He gave a curt nod, his eyes twinkling. "That's better." Then he smiled, his eyes softening to a pale blue. "And I love you, Elizabeth Leland. My precious, infinitely sweet wife, lover, companion and friend. And I really do mean the words of that song…my heart is yours, faithful, true, and forever."

Myles kissed his wife tenderly, then settled down with her in his arms, and began to sing to her again, both of them drifting off to sleep with the words in their hearts…

_I will give you my heart, faithful and true_

_And all the love it can hold— that's all I can do._

'_Cause I've thought about how long I'll love you;_

_And it's only fair that you know,_

_Forever's as far as I'll go._

* * *

&

* * *

"If you don't hurry up, we're going to miss our flight." Myles walked into the bedroom where Elizabeth was just brushing her hair. 

"Well, if someone hadn't insisted that showering together would be faster, we wouldn't have had to take a second shower now, would we?" She dropped the brush into her makeup case and stepped into his arms.

Myles gave her a wicked grin. "So I miscalculated your allure quotient. I didn't hear you complaining."

"You didn't give me a chance," she countered, matching his grin with her own. "It's a good thing I can breathe through my nose." She reached over and closed the makeup case with one hand. "There. That's it. Everything else is out in the entryway."

"Good." He glanced at his watch. "Because we really do have to go."

Twenty minutes later they were weaving their way through the international terminal at Dulles Airport, carry-ons in hand. Myles finally paused at a gate, and took her hand. "Here's our stop."

Elizabeth looked at the flight information above the boarding desk. "Lisbon? We're going to Portugal? That's wonderful!"

"Well, actually," Myles replied mysteriously, "Lisbon is merely the starting point. This trip is Sam's wedding present to us."

She _stared_ at him. "Your multi-millionaire twin brother is paying for this? At what point did he actually let you _stop_ adding plans?"

Myles laughed. "You know him well. He wouldn't let me stop until I'd assured him that this was the honeymoon of our dreams. We are about to spend an entire month on a private yacht, complete with full crew, sailing the northern Mediterranean. Portugal, Spain, the south of France, Italy, Greece, even Monte Carlo if you like. And this is no small yacht, either. He showed me the specs on it, and it's huge…well, not Vanderbilt huge, but big, trust me. _And_, he handed me a credit card and informed me he'd be forever insulted if we didn't rack up at least five figures on it."

Elizabeth's eyes were wide. "Does he ever do _anything_ small?"

"Never did when we were kids," was the bemused reply, "No reason he should start now. We can call him when we get there and you can chew him out if you want."

"I know better. I'll just thank him profusely." Elizabeth slipped her arms around Myles' waist again. "Now there's just one problem."

He tangled his fingers in her hair. "And what might that be?"

"How on earth am I supposed to survive eighteen hours sitting next to you and only being able to hold your hand or lean on your shoulder?"

Myles' eyes were very bright. "We'll just have to make up for that when we get to Lisbon, I guess."

-_FINIS-_

_(Stay tuned for Volume 6 of "The Dillingham Chronicles" - we move ahead 13 years. Myles is approaching his 25th year with the Bureau. What's changed? Who is still around... and who is not?)_


End file.
